Halo ODST: To Love a Dying World
by ThomasSheradin
Summary: James Ellis is an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, a special operations branch of the United Nations Space Command. Part of fireteam Kilo-Five he's trained to fight in the toughest situations behind enemy lines. After months of fighting the insurrectionist forces on the planet Reach, Kilo-Five has been assigned another black op; assassinate an enemy spy.
1. Welcome to Reach

Note From The Author: Hello reader. I want to be clear about my intentions for this story. This will be a very slow build to a tender, caring relationship that will only be characterized by physical intimacy further into development. I want the relationship to mean something to the reader on an emotional level, and that takes time as I develop and create the characters. If you're willing to come on this journey with me I hope you find the end product worth the wait. I value feedback, both critical and otherwise, and will take input to heart and make adjustments to the story as I see fit. Thank you for your time, and I wish you a wonderful read.

CHAPTER ONE

Welcome To Reach

I sit silent inside my "Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle. Everyone just calls it a drop pod, or the _egg_ if they're feeling clever. The weight of the brace bars are pressing down on my shoulders, ironically making me feel more grounded as I hover some two thousand kilometers above the planet. I've checked that the M7 Caseless is mag locked in position beside me a dozen times already, but I check again anyway. I can't turn my head while secured in the drop pod, something about neck injuries, so I run my gloved fingers along the large silencer attached to it. The weapon's familiarity eases my nerves. I'm always scared that I'll get planet side and find out I've somehow managed to leave without a weapon. Its an irrational fear- It wouldn't be possible to get into the pod, go through the three stages of checks, have the SL check the pod, and everyone misses it. But I still worry. I still check again and again.

We're almost in position. The timer in the upper right corner of my HUD shows a countdown till the UNCS Minotaur is over the area of operation. 1:30. 1:29. 1:28. I tap out the seconds with my boot, one of the few parts of my body I can still move with any degree of freedom. The pod's displays start coming online. Each is a live-feed from the other pods launching with me. My squadmates. In the center is Sergeant Chance, the bold red stripe running along the top of his helmet clearly marking him as the squad leader. There are five of us in total, myself included. Full strength for us. Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. I can't help but chuckle. How did I ever end up in the ODST? The biggest joke. A bunch of insane, half-cocked, over-committed and under-educated jarheads… I don't think we could be anything else, because what kind of sane, smart person would willingly be shot out of a cannon into a planet? None. We are _Helljumpers_. I don't try to hide my pride about it either. We're insane, and we're good at our job. The best.

Chance's voice breaks over the helmet's coms. Its open to the entire squad, and I can see the readout of his transmission strength and each of the receiving squaddies on the left side of my helmet's display. I say their names in my head like I always do at the start of an op. _Sargent Chance, Corporal Glasgow, Private Jostad, Private. Ifedi, and Private Ellis._ James Ellis. Me. _Still alive._

"Where are we going?" Chance asks.

"Hell!" We all reply.

"And how are we getting there?!"

The timer ticks down. 3… 2… 1…

"Feet first!" We roar back.

The pod drops. The altitude reading on the pod's display is going crazy, flipping down through numbers faster than I can track. It also shows the rotation of the planet, the heading, and a bunch of other navigational data which blends together in my mind. I've seen it before, forty-seven times before. This will be forty-eight. Almost to the fifty mark. I try not to think about, but it makes me excited anyway. It will be 90 seconds before impact. I can hear Jostad howling over the mic like he's on a roller coaster. The others join him, except for Glasgow and myself. We've always been quieter. I don't think it's for the same reasons though. Truthfully the drops terrify me. Worst part is being stuck helpless inside a small metal tube hurtling towards the ground. It's all automated too, so you're not in control of when the chute deploys or if the decent is cocked up by some undiagnosed computer error buried deep within some caffeine-addled programmer's butchered code. The UNSC doesnt share the numbers with us either, of how many drops end up with one pod plastered alongside a cliff. They say it's safe. I think safe is relative.

Flames lick the outside of the pod as we start hitting the higher levels of real atmo. I check the readings on the pod with another glance. It says the temperatures are within "normal ranges." I don't see any red flashing lights but it doesn't make me feel any better. There is a camera mounted in the hull of the pod, and I task it up on the main monitor. Chance's face moves off to one of the leftern most displays. I can't see the ground yet. Its dark, and the cloud cover is dense. That's a good thing, as we're less likely to have a hot drop - combat right after the doors open. We'll have time to get on task before things go sideways. I look at the altitude reader- we're about half way down.

Jostad cracks over the coms channel again. "Wink, why were the Vikings such good sailors?"

Glasgow, who we all call Wink on account she's the squad's sniper, responded. "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Because you can lead a Norse to water, but you can't make him sink." Jostad laughed. It was a deep sound, comforting in its own way. Wink groaned.

"That shit was horrendous." Ifedi replies.

"Impact in twenty seconds!" Chance cut across the coms.

My jaw tenses up. I'm ready for the crash. I hear a loud bang as the latches on the top of the pod blow. The quad finned chute which they contain is quickly caught by the wind and deploys. The pod yanks backwards in violent protest as it's decent is arrested by the added drag. The pod is basically one giant impact compensator. Crumple zones and heavy duty compression systems are the bulk of what I'm surrounded by. Still, you're slowing down 1,300 pounds of equipment and meat. You feel it.

I slam into the ground and for a moment my helmet's HUD goes dead from the impact. It's only a brief flicker though, and I'm back up. Four explosive pins detonate and send the pod's door flying some thirty yards forward. A heartbeat later and my training kicks in. I detach myself from the crash harness, and with my weapon in hand put boots on the ground. I crouch inside the deployment zone and scan the surrounding area. The squad's spread is good this time. Our pods have all landed within a hundred yards of each other, and more importantly I haven't been shot at. _Yet._

I flick my helmet over to night vision and suddenly the word is green, with Targets of Interest, equipment and personnel, outlined in bright green lines. We're fifty yards from a tree line, and thirty from a cliffside. A tight landing zone by definition. I don't want to waste time. I'm on my feet as soon as I see Ifedi is out of his pod to my right. Both of us start jogging towards Chance's impact site, weapon's raised and at the ready. As we pass the others, each falls in alongside us and the four of us arrive at Chance's pod. He already has his Data Sat Pad out.

"Clocks at zero three-hundred twenty-three. Position… Grid KJ, zero-six seventy-two, by forty-four eighty-three. Confirm."

I double check my sat nav as he's speaking, confirming the position and cronometer. It's green across the board. "Confirm." We each say one at a time.

"Alrighty then... " Chance pauses and stands up. "Objective is a little over eight klicks to the North-West, but looking at the topography here… What a mess."

"Welcome to Reach." Wink remarks.

The others laugh. I laugh too. Chance doesn't. We've been making drops here for over two months, and every drop is a nightmare of topography. Reach is a collection of large valleys and treacherous mountain ranges. It's the perfect place for insurgent forces to hide. Villages dot the surface, as the booming colony still relies on large highway networks to transport ground goods across colonies. Mining, specifically titanian, is a massive export.

"Scratch, what do you think?" Chance asks.

"We're probably going to have to proceed North till we can find a way down. If we aren't unlucky we'll arrive on the outskirts of the village within two hours I'd guess." Ifedi, or Scratch as was his nickname, is a local. To reach anyway. Generally he knows the terrain well, and is easily the best trailblazer in the squad. He joined the UNSC trying to get away from his home, and the Innies had brought him right back.

"Then that's what we do. Scratch, you're on point."

"Roger." He replies, and moves out accordingly. He chambers a round in his M45 as he takes point and starts making his way through the long grass and scattered bushes that are the dominant feature of Reach's mountains.

"You running buck or slugs today?" I ask.

"Buck." He replies.

"Is that because of last time?" Jostad remarks. I laugh, even Wink chuckles. Last mission Scratch had been firing at an Innie eighty yards off with slugs. It was near the tail end of a firefight, and he missed. Three times. Wink had taken the shot to finish the fight.

"The sun was in my eyes." Scratch responds, half joking. I can almost see him smiling through the silver mirror of his helmet's visor.

"Oh, right. Nevermind that our visor's filter out glare." Jostad taps the side of his helmet.

"Mine was broken. Don't worry, its fixed now."

The cronometer ticks over another minute. One hour and twelve minutes have passed, all of it spent navigating the hillside and picking our way past thickets. I look towards the horizon, but at four-thirty in the morning it's still pitch black without the NVs from my helmet. We're in no danger of losing the light if we can get on task soon.

"Sergeant, eyes on the objective." Its Wink's voice. She is standing a few yards off on the edge of a sheer drop. I moved to join her, falling in behind Jostad.

At the edge, a few hundred feet below, was the tell-tale yellow glow of electric lights. The village was on the small to medium size. Probably housed a few dozen families, with local farmlands and such being spread out across the near stepps. All of us remain quiet. We're all making the same mental calculations- looking at the approach.

"It'll take another ten to get down to that ridge at bearing three-thirty." Chance points to a spot where the cliff face mellowed into a gentle slope. It looks like a water run off point, or maybe a natural river bed. "We enter from the North side of the village, the target's house in third in. Right there. The one next to the compound. Simple breach and clear and we exfil the same way we came in. We'll be out of there before anyone knows whats up."

"We hope to be out of there before anyone knows whats up." I correct.

Chance nods. "Right. Assuming shit gets fubar we push out to the West, using the compound as cover and break radio silence to ask for Pelican extract." He pauses, letting us absorb the plan.

"As a reminder," He continues. "The target is this man here." On my helmet a picture of a middle to late aged male appears. The same picture that was used in the brief aboard the Minotaur. He has a dark complexion, brown eyes, strong cheekbones and a firm brow with thin eyebrows. Black hair, cut to a respectable length. "Doctor Amari Shuls. Wanted fugitive, Innie spy. The works. Worked with ONI for years so be prepared for anything. The man is smart."

"Is this a blank op or what?" Wink asks.

Chance doesn't hesitate. "Confirmed. In and out. No extra luggage."

"Great." She remarks, with a barely hidden edge to her voice. She isn't a fan of these ops. None of us blame her. Fighting the Innies has been less clear cut than any of us would have liked. No prisoners. I take a breath and clear my mind.

"Fall in. Heads in the game and lets get this done. Ginger, you're on point" Chance's tone is authoritative. It's time to work. We all nod in turn and fall in. I check my M7 once more and take position leading the squad down the rest of the incline.

"Can't ONI handle its own dirty laundry?" Jostad says with a grunt of annoyance.

"Let's be clear, this isn't some sketchy cover op we've been shoved into by ONI higher ups. This man is a traitor to the UNSC. He's a fugitive and we're bringing him to justice. We've done this before, so stop acting like rookies and get your shit wired. Double for you, Viking."

Jostad grunted once more but I can see him nodding his helmet. "Yes Sarg." He says.

Its four fifty-eight in the morning when we make it down to the village through what turns out is a natural river springs coming off the mountain range and down to the village reservoir. I turn on the laser sight of my M7 and push through a concrete alcove attached to a larger structure that must serve as the village's main shipping and transportation hub. Around us are forklifts and large semi-trucks currently unloaded and awaiting dawn's light to start their work.

"Target building ahead." I say, and stop short of crossing the street, hidden in the alcove's shadows. I feel Chance's hand on my shoulder, letting me know he's in position and ready. Ahead is a two-story building. There is an entrance on the bottom floor, a main door next to a garage and drive-way. I pull up the floor plan we were given during the brief. I know Chance is doing the same.

"Viking, Ginger, you're on the bottom floor. Push in and up. Stay alert. Anyone makes a move, ghost 'em. Everyone else get them face down and kissing the floor."

"Roger." I say.

"Roger." Viking echoes.

"Myself, Wink, and Scratch have the second floor. There are three rooms. First is the kids, second is guest, and third is the target. Wink, you've got the guest. Me and Scratch press for the target. When we're all done we move to exfil through the garage. Wait for my go to breach. Clear?"

"Clear." We all respond.

Chance taps my shoulder. We're a go. I cross the street, and the split happens mid stride. Me and Viking obsessively scanning the area. We hit the door and stack up on either side, Viking with his hand on the door handle. The electric lock acknowledges our clearance and blinks over to green. We wait for the Sergeant's signal.

"Go."

Viking opens the door and I'm first through. First room is a kitchen. Open floor plan with an island that spills over into a living room, dining room combo. To the right are ceiling high windows that open onto what would normally be a lovely courtyard but right now just makes this an exposed position. The stairwell is visible to the left, through which I catch a glimpse of the second team entering through a side door from a stairwell in the backyard. I focus on my target, a door near the rear of the building. Behind it is a large office room and the perfect place for targets to hide- bodyguards maybe. My finger moves to the trigger as we approach.

There is a crash and thunderous boom from above, but it isn't the sound of Scratch's shotgun. I look to my right to see a shape through the window, a second before its breached. An armored figure, a full foot taller than myself comes through, rifle raised and broken glass showering down. I pivot, dropping my knee out from under me to try and get my barrel on target fast enough to fire. The M7 recoils in my hand as I start firing, but the figure is faster than I expected.

"Viking!" I cry out, as the assailant grabs hold of my weapon and pushes me back against the wall with a thud. I struggle, but there is nothing I can do. It feels like my weapon is being held by industrial clamps. I look over and see Viking sprawled out onto the floor with another of our attackers atop him.

"What the fuck?!" He says, as he kicks his feet helplessly.

"Stand down." The man says.

"You're Spartans?" The realisation hits me now that I have a good look at the helmet staring back at me. I've only worked with two spartan teams before, and even as ODST that was damn rare. I see the Spartan's orange helmet turn to his partner and then back to me.

"Yes. Now stand down."

"We have orders." I reply, not exactly sure what else to say.

"And they're being overridden."

"Fine. We'll stand down - just let me up!" Viking puts words to how I'm feeling.

I nod to the orange Spartan. I feel the man's grip on my M7 ease, and the pressure pinning me to the wall vanishes. The other, in teal armor, pulls Viking to his feet as effortlessly as one would pick up a bag of groceries. I breathe a bit more easily and look around. The readout on the rest of the fireteam is still green across the board, but they're off coms.

"I'm Spear Three, that's Spear Five. We're here to retrieve the package."

I look at the man who I confirm is almost a full head taller than me. "But we have orders to..." I stop speaking when the Spartan simply turns away. I look at Viking who just shrugs. I doubt even if I got off a full mag into the Spartan's back he wouldn't just turn around and smash my face in. I decide there isn't anything I can do.

Chance's voice comes over the radio. "Kilo-Five, report status. Ginger, Viking, you two alright?"

I respond. "All clear down here Sir, just got some sudden company. Same upstairs I assume?"

"Same here. Doctor Amari is under ONI custody. We're to aid Spear team transport Doctor Amari to an ONI facility South of here called Sword base."

"The Major know about this?" Viking asks.

"It's the Major's orders." Chance replies.

The rest of what I assume is Spear team descends the stairs, each a hulking figure of armor and armament. Between them is the target, wearing a white coat and pale blue slacks. He looks quite put together for someone who should have just woken up. Following them is the rest of Kilo-Five. The Spartan at the head of the pack, who I assume is the leader, speaks first. "We have two transport Warthogs on the edge of the village to the South. Get ready to move."

I see movement on the rooftop across from our position and squint. Suddenly the lead Spartan's armor flares a bright gold and the unmistakable sound of a sniper rifle echoes across the village.

"Contact, contact! Roof at sixty!" I point to the building and move for cover.

The Spartans are lightning quick, the teal and a white armored one erupting with suppressing fire from their assault rifles. I grab the Doctor along with Chance and we shove him down behind the kitchen island for cover.

"They won't let me go without a fight!" Amari declares, a statement I imagine we're all already keenly aware of.

"My team will cover you. Get the Doctor to the garage and move South to the extract. One of my team is there. We'll be right behind you." The lead Spartan doesn't even turn as he speaks, marching forwards through the broken window and out into the courtyard. The entire village is awake now and innie's are taking positions in every window and alcove they can find. Through my NVs their movements are as clear as day.

"You heard the man!" Wink says, and dashes across the room, kicking open the garage door before wheeling around to cover us.

With the doctor between us Chance and I move towards the garage. I hear the sound of bullets impacting around us, and see a chunk of the door near Wink's shoulder go missing. She returns fire, the big caliber rifle seeming to suck the oxygen from the room as she discharges two rounds before we've got the doctor through to the garage. Viking and Scratch are right behind us.

"My children!" The Amari cries. I hear him, but pretend not to.

"I've got point!" Scratch shouts, smashing the garage door button with his fist before moving into position. Slowly it rises, and we see the extent of the damage. Innies are everywhere, and gunshots fill the air. The village is a hot zone. _Its fubar._

Three blocks go by with us under constant incoming fire before we finally see the Warthogs. A Spartan in bright yellow armor is wielding two assault rifles, one in either hand and standing on top of the lead vehicle. A bullet impacts my shoulderguard and I stumble, letting go of the doctor. Viking takes my place instantly.

"You good!?" Chance radios in.

I check, padding my shoulder. It doesn't hurt, and I can still move. "I'm good!"

Fifty more feet, Scratch leading the way, his shotgun barking angrily at assaulting innie combatants. I see one come around a nearby corner carrying a rocket launcher. Three rounds into his chest before he can get off a shot, the silencer of my M7 smoking in the cool night air. I try not to think about how wrong that could have gone and keep running when I see Viking and Chance stumble. I pump more rounds into a nearby building, hitting one and suppressing two others.

"The Doctor's hit!" Wink says over coms, firing her rifle and dropping a target taking position on one of the balconies.

Viking and Chance are back on their feet, and move to the lead Warthog. They start to load the doctor into the flatbed. Is see Viking grab the railing and jump into the back with the injured doctor, already removing a FAK from the hardcase on his leg.

"How bad?" Chance asks.

"Not sure yet. I don't think it's bad." Viking replies.

Chance wastes no time. "Ginger, Wink, and Scratch, you're on the second Warthog. Ginger, take the wheel. Viking, stay with the doctor."

I ditch my M7 into the back seat and dive into the driver's position. The Warthog's engine is already prepped and hot, and its tiers angrily dig up gravel as I follow the Spartan whose already gunning the engine of the lead Warthog. I look down at the speedometer and realise we aren't slowing down. "What about the rest of the Spartans?" I ask.

Just as I speak I see them running out of the village. Two of them are carrying children under their arms, wielding weapons in the other hand. They run up alongside both Warthogs, effortlessly keeping pace and grabbing on right after they shoulder their weapons. The leader sits in the passenger seat next to me.

"Don't worry, we're here." He sounds calm, not even winded.

A few moments later and we're tearing ass down a narrow cliff-side road, my eyes fully focused on tracking the lead vic. I'm trying not to send us careening off the edge of the mountain and to our deaths a few hundred feet below.

"And thats how its done." I hear Scratch shout from the back of the Warthog. He's laughing, and I realise so am I.

The blade-like structure juts out from the surrounding terrain, stabbing at the sky with an unnaturally angular construction. Its exterior is cold grey metal, plain and intimidating, everything I'd expect an ONI secure base of operations to look like.

"Sword, hu? The name certainly fits." Wink remarks and I have to agree.

"Drive around the next bend and head East. You'll see the entrance there." It's the lead Spartan, who I've learned is predictably called Spear One.

"Should we radio ahead?" Chance inquires.

"Already done, Sergeant."

We finally start to slow down. Amari's wounds turned out to be nothing more than a graze. He is very lucky. _We all are_. I keep replaying the events in my head, and the holes are making less sense. Why were the Spartans sent to intercept us? Why are we bringing the Doctor who is an innie spy to the center of a hidden ONI installation? I assume it's probably interrogation but the Spartans don't seem to be treating him and his family like a prisoners. I doubt I'll ever get answers to any of these questions. I expect we'll drop the Doctor off and be aboard a Pelican shortly thereafter, ordered never to speak about the mission again. _I hope there isn't any paperwork._

I see the lead Warthog slow down, and come to a stop. A man, not a Spartan, dressed head to toe in a black ONI combat uniform approaches. In front of us is the entrance to Sword base, two large, angled blast doors that look like they could withstand a direct hit from a MAC canon.

"What the hell are they keeping in there?" Scratch remarks. He's leaning on the roll bar above me.

"I doubt we're going to find out." I answer.

"True, true. You right."

"I hope you weren't under the illusion you're special." Viking comments before Chance cuts us off.

"We're clear to proceed. Keep it tight people."

_He's telling us not to get into trouble_. I depress the accelerator and gradually ease the Warthog forwards. There is a hiss and a smooth mechanical rumble as the blast door lowers, allowing us entry. I drive in, passing an additional checkpoint just inside, and heading up a curved ramp into what looks like a staging area. Another set of blast doors open and we drive down into an underground garage before stopping next to a clean, white structure which marked the entrance to Sword base.

Nobody says anything now. My mouth is dry but I'm not removing my helmet just yet. There are a lot of rumors about ONI. How they do things, and what they do are generally very closely guarded secrets and that just leads to talk. At the end of the day the UNSC is an organisation, and they know certain things are better left unsaid. It's hard not to acknowledge that it's gotten worse since the uprising. Since the insurrection. You can't get a straight answer from anyone and security clearance and classifications have become the norm. It doesn't stop people from talking though. Disappearances, and rumors about abductions just add fuel to the fire. The Spartans too... _The Spartans especially._

The Warthog in front shuts off its engine. Spear team is already jumping off, helping Doctor Amari and his two children towards the facility door. I don't move, and keep the engine running.

"We'll just… wait here then?" Viking asks.

Nobody says anything. I'm not sure what there is to say at this point. A few moments go by and we watch the Spartan team as well as the three civies have a conversation with someone over the base's com system. After a few minutes the doors into Sword base open, and then they are gone. All except the Spartan leader.

"Kilo-Five, disembark. Your presence has been requested by Doctor Halsey." Spear One says over our channel.

"Who?" Wink asks automatically. I don't think she meant to say that aloud.

Chance clears his throat. "Sorry, but we should radio Major Horn and-"

"Doctor Halsey is expecting you. Leave your weapons." This time his voice makes it clear this isn't really up for debate.

I shut off the Warthog and awkwardly hop out. I look at the others and see they're just as uncomfortable as I am. Somehow that makes me feel better.


	2. Truth and Reconciliation

CHAPTER TWO

Truth and Reconciliation

The deeper we go into the interior of Sword base the more similar everything looks. I wonder if that's intentional or not, part of some sinister design. It's hard to recognise anything, and easy to get lost, two things I imagine would be useful for a base that probably doesn't officially exist. I realise I should have been dropping points in my sat nav, just in case we have to retrace our steps. It wouldn't help to start now though, and honestly what do I think is going to happen? Even if things get totally fucked it's not like we're going to be able to fight our way out of an entire ONI base. _Fight? What am I thinking, these are allies_. It won't get that bad. It can't.

I haven't seen the doctor, or the rest of Spear team since we entered, and I'm not going to ask where they are. All of us just follow Spear One quietly. I haven't talked to the rest of Kilo-Five either, figuring that our Spartan chaperone probably has our comms on tap. Nothing like not having privacy to make you behave.

Finally after what seems like an eternity of corridors, elevators, and doorways we arrive at something of note, at least more notable than stark white corridors. It's another large blast door and the Spartan starts the opening sequence.

"I don't have to tell you not to talk about anything behind this door." Spartan One turns his head and looks at us directly for the first time in recent memory.

"What about the stuff we just walked through?" Viking retorts.

_He just can't help himself, can he?_ The Spartan doesn't answer and we're all too focused on what we can now see. It's a huge natural cavern, miles wide and full of clear, reflective ice. Above us is a massive ice dome, that is who knows how thick. Its breathtaking, but also strange. The strangeness isn't helped by what I can see in the distance. A ship, or some kind of installation larger than anything I've seen and constructed like nothing else. Its buried here, probably hundreds of feet below the natural ice shelf, hidden from view. _How did ONI even find this place?_

"That's not one of ours, is it?" Wink asks.

"No." The Spartan answers without further elaboration.

I don't want to think about those implications. We start walking through the cavern, heading towards what looks like a bunker next to the structure. The evidence of construction is everywhere, but it looks like things have been halted ages ago. Digging equipment, trucks and loaders are scattered around boxes of heavy mining equipment, all long since turned off and left. They didn't even bother shipping the stuff back out to the surface… They must have found what they were looking for.

Inside the bunker it's more of the same. Long, plain metal hallways leading towards the foreign structure. Eventually it opens up into a larger room, and behind a glass window I can see an entire team of scientists working. They're busy, too much so to acknowledge our presence. All except one. An older looking woman, maybe in her late fifties with a short bob haircut and piercing eyes. She signals to those next to her, giving them orders I can't hear and leaves the console where she was working. After passing through an airlock she approaches Spear One who for the first time removes his helmet.

I see Scratch recoil, and I can't help but stare. The man behind the helmet looks… young. Fifteen maybe? He's just a child but his eyes are unavoidably ancient. Scars cover him him. Thin scars from medical tools, implants just underneath the skin, as well as a variety of different battle scars. This kid, this soldier, has been fighting for a very long time. _What that means..._ It unsettles me.

"Spartan One-Zero-Four… Frederic," The woman says. "You completed the mission to an acceptable standard?"

"Yes, Doctor Halsey." The Spartan replies, his tone is respectful as though her were talking to his own mother.

_Halsey… this is the woman who brought us down here_. She turns to our team, and I shuffle uncomfortably under her gaze. I feel like I'm being judged, and in all honesty we probably are.

"You're Kilo-Five, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." Chance replies.

"I read your file. Remove your helmets."

We pause. I look sideways at Wink who does the same. Neither of us seem keen on the idea, but we see Chance opening the atmospheric seal on his helmet. I let out a small sigh then do the same. The air here is cool, and tastes metallic from being pumped through filters a dozen times.

Halsey studies us for a moment, as though she were looking at a piece of equipment. I've seen the look before from Major Horn just before he's about to send us on what can politely be called a sucide mission. It's the look of someone trying not to see you as a human being, of someone who sees you as an asset. _Is that really so inaccurate?_ I guess not. At the end of the day we're fixers- shoot us at a problem and it goes away.

"Sergeant Alex Chance, would you mind telling me why you were attempting to kill a member of my staff?" Halsey's voice is clipped and firm, but not angry.

"Ma'am?" Chance asks. He sounds confused. So am I.

"Doctor Amari is a member of my staff, Sergeant, and come to find out you were trying to kill him. Thankfully my Spartans got there first."

"We had orders to eliminate an enemy spy, ma'am."

"I read your orders, they were for VIP retrieval."

Chance looks back at us with a perplexed expression. I shrug, unsure what aid I can offer him. Wink steps to his side and leans forwards, whispering something into his ear. Chance's face goes dark and then he speaks.

"I understand, ma'am-"

"Please, call me Doctor Halsey."

"Doctor Halsey, there was a miscommunication over the lines. We got our wires crossed and must have intercepted a rogue transmission. Obviously our official orders, the ones you read, the ones that came from Major Horn, are correct. We were there to retrieve the package."

Halsey laughs, but it isn't full of humor or levity. Afterwards though she gives us a genuine smile. "You care for your team, don't you Sergeant?"

"Yes ma- Doctor Halsey."

"How would you like to come work for me?"

Viking starts coughing violently, and everyone gathered stares at him. After a few moments he waves us off. His face is bright red. "Sorry." He croaks. "Own spit. Down the wrong pipe."

"I'm not sure I follow, Doctor Halsey." Chance admits.

"You're smart, Sergeant. Think about the situation you're in and how you found yourself here, then think about who you work for. I mean really work for. You can either… stay the course and keep your head in the dark, sent on ops with unclear objectives where you don't know friend from foe or… you can work for me. I need work done on Reach and I can't afford to send an entire Spartan fireteam out every time. I have a use for you and I'm making you an offer."

Silence. The Spartan, Fredreick, is staring at us. Me, specifically. "Sir." I say. "I think we should… consider it."

Chance looks at me, his brow furrowed. Wink is nodding in agreement with me.

"Consider what? Major Horn isn't just going to let us switch uniforms, Ginger. How do you think this works?"

"Leave Major Horn to me, Sergeant."

I look down at my boots, still coated in mud and dust from the previous mission. I check my cronometer, and realise it's only ten in the morning. Feels later. We've been moved to a different room. It's a plain box with benches and chairs. We're supposed to be thinking, talking about what to do next, and getting ready to give Halsey an answer. No one has said anything for fifteen minutes. Wink is still pacing in the center of the room.

"So…" Scratch starts, and the rest of us look at him. "What just happened?"

"We were used." Wink accuses.

Chance shakes his head. "Wink, we weren't used…"

"Then what do you call it? Major Horn sent us to kill a loyal man. He was kidnapped. That's what Halsey said- He's just a scientist, with a family, and the Innie's surrounded his home."

I look at Chance who lets out a sigh and picks at a piece of dirt on his armor.

"You remember what you said during the op? That this wasn't some sketchy mission ordered by ONI? That we were bringing a man to justice? A traitor." Wink stares at him.

Chance nods. "I remember."

"Well I guess you were partially right. It wasn't ONI who ordered it. We were basically a hit squad!"

Viking scratches the back of his neck, he looks exasperated. "Shes right."

"Oh that's a helpful contribution, Viking. Thanks." Chance retorts while he rolls his eyes.

Viking shrugs, throwing his hands up in the air. "What do you want from me?"

"What makes any of you think working for ONI- no, working for Halsey, because don't be fooled that's exactly what this is, what makes ANY of you think that will be different?" Chance waves his hand at us, inviting anyone to refute his statement. "We don't even know who this woman is, other than she has access to a team of Spartans. That sound normal to any of you?"

"Because she's personally invested." I answer. "If she wants it done she's going to give us the tools we need to be successful. That's more than can be said for the UNSC right now. We've been fighting ghosts, Chance. It's been nothing but dark op after dark op. When's the last time we were even in a stand up firefight? The Innie's are fighting a losing war on Reach and they know it. It's only going to get worse when they start going into hiding and we have to start kicking down doors in the main cities tracking down accused war criminals."

"That's what you signed up for!" He shouts back. He isn't wrong I guess.

"If that's what we have to do then we should be told." Wink's face is more solemn than I've ever seen it. "We have the chance to at least know what we're getting into this way. We should take it."

Chance sighs, but nods his head. I think he already agreed with us, just needed to hear it aloud. "Here's the deal. This conversation dies in this room. We'll take Halsey up on her offer but there is NO guarantee Major Horn goes for this. She might be the real deal, she might not. If not, we hop back on the Pelican and leave, and this whole thing stays between us. None of us are getting court martialed. We stick to the official story, we do our jobs, and we all make it out on the other side alive. Just like always."

Everyone stands up and nods. "Yes Sergeant." We say.

Chance walks over to the intercom attached to the wall and thumbs the bottom. "Doctor Halsey? We're in."

There is a pause, before Frederic's voice comes replies. "I will let the Doctor know. In the meantime head up top. Get some food, and hit the armory."

We were all surprised when Major Horn himself thanked us for our service over the comms, with Doctor Halsey standing next to us the entire time. _Your service to the UNSC has been exemplary, and I know that given this position aiding Doctor Halsey your record will only become more impressive._ I don't pretend to be a smart man, and I don't try and follow the politics within the UNSC and Highcom, but I certainly didn't think transferring out of the ODST and into ONI would be quite so smooth. I look down at my new armor and combat suit, painted black with ONI's colors as markings. It's the same model as ODST armor, but I can feel the joints are smoother; everything feels just a bit more responsive. Apparently in addition to a host of smaller upgrades it has some kind of new energy dispersal weave that's supposed to make it substantially better at absorbing punishment than the standard issue stuff. _I'll focus on not getting shot before relying on it_.

I hang my legs over the side of the Falcon transport helicopter watching the scenery go by. Its two twin rotors are locked in the forward position and underneath us the rolling mountains of Reach zip past. We're speeding towards the coast and our new assignment, our first assignment as an ONI Fireteam.

"Innie combatants have assaulted and taken control of an ONI research installation which is dedicated to translating the data funneled to them by the main dig site under Sword base." Chance says over the coms. "According to ONI camera feeds the science team at the site has locked themselves in a secure safe room on the western side of the complex. We'll be landing at the Eastern entrance, where we'll be greeted by ONI security. Our mission is to push in, link up with a Spartan asset already inside the facility, and return to facility to ONI control."

"How'd a bunch of insurgent yahoos get inside?" Wink asks.

"Who knows, not our job. I'm sure the investigators will search for any holes after we pull ONI assets out of the fire."

I clear the breach on my M7 and get set for combat. "How much longer till we arrive?" I ask as I watch Scratch anxiously drumming his hands against the shotgun in his lap.

"Almost there." Chance confirms.

The flight goes by fast and soon we're landing on a rocky, ugly beach about fifty yards from a coastal facility. Its much larger than Sword base, at least the part I can see. The outside looks more like a civilian structure, some kind of shipping yard or launch station. The entire facility overhangs the coastal cliff with an industrial dock below. _This place is used to dealing with heavy equipment_.

"Kilo-Five?!" A man runs up to the chopper, waving us forward.

"Yeah, what's the situation?" Chance asks, taking the lead. I fall in to his left, and Wink takes his right.

"The Insurgent force has continued to push deeper into the facility. We're pursuing them as they give up ground, but without backup we can't push in before they've reached the science team."

"That's why we're here. I was told the science team is secured in a safe room?"

"That's correct, Sir."

A pair of guards salute and open the door to the facility. It squeaks and wines with protest, rust from constantly being exposed to the coastal elements having darkened and potted the steel. Inside the corridors are utilitarian, confirming my suspicions that this was, at least at one point, a civilian heavy shipping facility. Exposed pipes and heavy power cords are openly strung along the walls, labeled with bright, primary colors.

"Assuming the enemy gets there what are we dealing with? How much time do we have?" Scratch inquires.

"It's hard to say, Sir, probably not long. Thirty minutes or less? There were two insurgent teams that hit the facility in a coordinated attack. One of them went to the loading bay and have been transporting welding equipment to the safe room. They're ahead of the main force that's delaying us and they're likely to be at the doors within the next few minutes."

Chance speaks over our internal comms. "Have any of you been looking at these blueprints? Half of the hallways we've passed aren't even on here."

"Yeah… ONI's definetly put their own spin on the interior since these plans were made." Scratch remarks. "It looks like we're just going to have to go old school and fight our way through."

"What we do best." Viking says with a grin in his voice.

"We were told a Spartan was at this facility, you know anything about that?" Chance directs his question to the man escorting us.

"Spartan, Sir? No. You're the first group we've seen. It's just through here, Sir."

We arrive at a locked security door and just behind it I can hear the discharge of assault rifles. They sound like dull thuds from behind the heavy steel door. Viking and Scratch are already loaded and ready, taking a position on either side of the door. I fall in behind Scratch, Wink moves behind Viking. We each nod to Chance who takes the middle avenue.

"Open it." Chance orders.

As soon as the door lifts an explosion sends an ONI trooper to the floor, shrapnel having ruined his face. He's coughing, his lungs probably torn to shreds by the shockwave from the grenade. I step over his body and move forwards under Viking's covering fire.

"Moving up!" I call, dashing down the corridor and taking cover behind a makeshift barrier of steel equipment boxes the ONI security team had moved into position. I peak over the top of the bunker and survey the area. Down the hall is a similarly constructed barrier, with three innies taking cover and returning fire with MA37 assault rifles. A moment later and Wink is next to me.

"Ginger, suppress and I'll pop the one on the right!" She calls.

I nods and stand, bracing my M7 against the box and letting it roar in full auto. The rapid fire sub catches one of the innie's by surprise and before he can get down his torso is hit by half a dozen rounds. I see him fall, a fine mist of red hanging in the air for just a fraction of a second. The boom of Wink's rifle rips through the air a second later, the large projective tearing through the enemies' barrier like a mere inconvenience and turning the man behind into a mess of dead flesh.

Before the third has time to run I've vaulted the barrier along with Scratch and we're running down the hall, his shotgun belching gouts of flame from its barrel as he pumps shot after shot into the enemy position. We arrive before the target has managed to recover from the death of his two allies and I put a few rounds into chest before moving on.

"Next checkpoint!" Chance calls from right behind us.

Three more barriers fall to our assault, and the innie's will to fight is already starting to break. We're chewing through them faster than they can prepare the next strongpoint. I feel good. My heart is racing but I'm calm. I'm in my element, we all are. It feels like an eternity since Kilo-Five has actually been in a proper combat scenario, not since we'd shipped off Tribute after the conclusion of Operation Trebuchet. This is what we trained for.

"Stationary!" Viking calls, pointing at the next barrier.

"Where the fuck did they find that thing?!" Scratch cries before diving for cover under a hail of bullets.

I peak around my position. About thirty yards down the corridor is another barrier, but this one is heavier. In the middle of it I can see an M247H heavy machine gun mounted to an armored gunner is almost totally obscured by a thick metal shield bolted to the gun. It's the perfect killzone. A bullet impacts next to my face, forcing me to duck back behind cover again.

"Those heavy rounds will tear through our shit, Sergeant, what do we do!?"

Chance grunts with annoyance, firing a few rounds down at the target which bounce harmlessly off the gun's shield. "I don't know. We can't flank it- these blueprints are a damn mess and they don't show another way into where the scientists are being held. We've have to go through!"

I fire a few rounds myself, hoping for a lucky shot but the turret is too well armored. _They must have been preparing for this position the entire time. The other barriers were just to buy time. This is the real defensive position_. "Someone's gotta bounce the barrier and throw a grenade behind the enemy position. It's the only way we'll dig them out." I shout over the roar of the enemies' incoming fire.

"To get that kind of accuracy you'd have to get within fifteen yards of the position!" Wink points out.

"Thats ten yards you've got to cover with that MG on your ass. No way. You wouldn't make it ten feet!"

"No other way." I growl between gritted teeth. I know I'm right, but I'm not happy about it.

"Leave it to me." A voice breaks over our comms, one I haven't heard before. Its soft, and inescapably feminie. Then I see her- the Spartan. Just as intimidating as the others and in dark, metallic blue armor. She sprints down the corridor and leaps over my position. The enemy position answers his assault with a wall of firepower. I watch mesmerized as the lone Spartan all but dances around the majority of the incoming shots, the few that do manage to hit her bouncing harmlessly off the brilliant golden shielding. She covers the distance in a few heartbeats and I see the grenade pulled and thrown in a fraction of a second. It lands perfectly in the gap where the machinegun's shield meets the ceiling and detonates.

The entire enemy position is smoked out all at once, the grenade cooking off what armaments the innie's had been hiding behind it. I approach the Spartan as she stands among the ruins of the enemy position.

"Thanks…" I say awkwardly with a smile on my face.

The Spartan looks at me for a few moments, the silver visor of her helmet completely impenetrable. Her reply is quiet, the delicateness of her voice completely mismatched against the terror of her physical appearance. "Spartan 010 - Naomi. I've been assigned to Kilo-Five. Come, we have people to save, and data to recover."


	3. Puppet Strings

Chapter Three

Puppet Strings

The rest of the fighting is significantly easier. The Spartan… Naomi, is a machine. I don't know what kind of armor they've fitted the Spartans with, but by the looks of it you could fire a tank shell at them and they'd keep going. She doesn't talk much, even in combat. I think she's said maybe… two words since introducing herself? That was about a dozen bodies back. I'm trying to keep up, cover here where I can but at this point it's just like shooting moa from a dropship. Then it goes wrong.

"Eyes on the final position!" I shout.

I unload a few rounds into one of a group working an industrial welder. They've attached the device to the safe room door and are already making progress. The enemy are taking cover behind another heavy barricade and another chokepoint, but this one lacks a heavy machinegun emplacement so I think we're in the proverbial downslope of this challenge. Naomi charges past me, with Chance and Viking covering her. I hear one of the innie's who must be their leader shouting something about a weapon, and then I see him grab something off the floor before charging to the defensive barrier. The weapon looks like a pod of some kind, bright blue and very… alien. No, it can't be. I raise my weapon, intent on dropping the insurgent before he has a chance to prove me right.

The innie leader grins as my rounds impact a bright blue shield that materialises around him, similar to what Naomi is covered in save for the color. Then he fires. Bright blue bolts of energy rip free, burning the very air around them with heat. I've heard the sound before, and his target is the Spartan. The bolts slam into her with aggressive intent, and for a moment it's a lightshow of gold shielding and blue plasma fire. Then Naomi's shielding fails. She doesn't make a sound, but I see the energy bolt impact just below her breastplate. She hits the ground with a thud, one hand moving to her wound.

I abandon my cover and take aim. I charge forwards and depress the trigger of my M7, determined to fire every last round I've got at the innie leader. The other insurgents are turning their guns on me, but it's too late. If Naomi's shields can be broken, so can yours. I see them flicker, then drop, and the wall of my bullets shreds the enemy leader in an instant. I risk a look at the Spartan. She's moving. Her helmet's unblinking visor is staring at me. I realise my celebration will be brief as I hear Chance shouting at me to take cover. The other innie's aren't broken by their leader's death and the first two rounds of return fire hit my breastplate. The impact puts me on my ass, and another round hits the side of my helmet. The loud bang disorients me and for a moment my HUD is knocked out. This is it. Not a bad death.

A shadow appears, blocking my view. It's the Spartan, crouched down in front of my position like a bunker, her armor absorbing the punishment of the enemies' fire.

"Push forwards!" Chance orders, and the others rush to our aid.

One by one the innie's fall, and then the hallways is quiet. The Spartan rises in front of me and for a moment the image reminds me of the recruitment posters that are responsible for me joining the UNSC in the first place- a lone, battle damaged figure standing amongst total destruction. Naomi wordlessly offers me a hand, and I take it.

"I've got the door." Scratch says, ducking down beside the console.

Wink and Chance have already set up a perimeter, covering the two corridors that lead to the saferoom junktion. I grab a nearby pry bar and start the work of getting the welder unit off the door. Weapons fire has damaged it significantly in the battle, and the mag locks that keep it anchored are stuck. "This things are really on there." I say between pulling with all my might and strained breaths. I have a suspicion that I'm not making any progress when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Let me." Naomi says.

I clear my throat and nod, then offer her the pry bar. She shakes her head and simply grabs the entire welding unit in a bear hug. Even Scratch stops working for a moment to watch as the Spartan slowly but surely tares the entire four hundred pound welding unit free from the door and tosses it aside.

"Got it." Scratch says a few seconds later, and the door starts to open.

We all stack up, weapons raised but I quickly see that we were in time. "It's just a bunch of scared eggheads." I say.

"It's alright, we're with the UNSC." Viking says. "ONI." He corrects a moment later, approaching what looks like the lead scientist and putting his weapon down.

The man looks to be in his late sixties, bald, with a ruddy complexion and worried eyes. "Thank you!" He says, shaking Viking's free hand. "I knew ONI would come for us." He's smiling until he notices the Spartan which catches him off guard. But he still seems grateful.

"Viking, escort the scientists to-"

"Just a moment, Sergeant." Naomi cuts in, her voice having a surprising amount of strength behind it despite how quiet it sounded. "Doctor Yaric, do you have the data from the latest round of decryption?"

The doctor looks around, and one of the other scientists nods at him. A smaller man, of thin build and with bright blue eyes produces a chip of some kind and hands it to Doctor Yaric who wastes no time in giving it to Naomi. I see her nod, and take the chip, inserting it into the back of her helmet. "You can go."

"Viking, escort them out for extraction."

"Yes, Sir. Please, follow me Doctor. The rest of you as well. Stay focused on me and we'll have you out of here in no time." Viking ushers them out one by one, and I watch as they disappear down a bend in the corridor.

"This is a covenant plasma rifle." Wink says. I turn to see her crouched over the dead innie leader, examining him with a probing finger. "And this is a covenant personal shield."

Naomi walks over to her position and crouches down next to her. She nods.

"Mind telling us what some random insurgent was doing with tech like that?" Wink presses.

"I don't know." Naomi confesses. I think she sounds honest, but Wink seems less than convinced. Chance is hovering just behind the pair.

"This isn't just an insurgent force then, its one armed with covenant weapons and tech. Who knows what they have access to? And why here? Why this facility?" Wink looks at Chance who shrugs.

"Isn't it obvious?" Scratch asks. "The data." He indicates to Naomi with a shrug of his weapon.

"Well?" Wink states. "What's on the chip?"

Naomi doesn't answer and I'm not sure if its because she doesn't know, or can't say.

"It doesn't matter why they hit this place, that isn't for us to find out." Chance cuts in. "What does matter is how these innies got their hands on covey tech. Obviously they're shipping it in from off world, right?"

Wink and I both nod in agreement.

"So- scavengers. They get the rifles off the field, and then bring 'em here and arm up the insurgent cells." Chance walks through his reasoning as he paces the corridor.

"Probably more likely to be raided from UNSC shipments." Wink suggests. "Remember Harvest? They were always collecting covey equipment and boxing it up as soon as they could, carting it off to research facilities and the like. Maybe the innies hit one of the ships, or a convoy."

"I have been analysing the identities of the insurgent fighters." Naomi says. "An abnormally large amount are employed at the same shipping depot located in Pálháza."

No one says anything for a moment. It's Chance who breaks the silence. "Then that's our next stop."

"I agree, Sergeant. I have already ordered a Pelican to meet us outside." I see Naomi grab the plasma rifle and mag lock the weapon to her thigh. Then she's walking down the corridor towards the exit. Wink stands up and gives Chance a look. He shrugs and turns to follow the Spartan.

"Move out, Kilo-Five." He says. "Viking, get the civvies prepped for extraction, and then get ready yourself. We're going to Pálháza."

"Pelican is already here, Sir." He radios back.

I sit across from Wink on the Pelican. I notice Kilo-Five has gathered together near the back of the Pelican's transport bay, but Naomi has chosen to sit away from us near the bay door. Maybe I should sit by her.

"Ginger!" Wink repeats.

"Hu?" I say, having not been listening.

"What the hell were you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Whats up?"

"What do YOU think is on that chip?"

I pause, having not really thought about it before.

Scratch cuts in. "I'm telling you, its enemy movement reports. That place must have been some kinda deep listening post or something." He nods at his own suggestion.

Viking shakes his head. "Thats stupid. Why would the innies give a shit about covey movement reports?"

"Maybe… maybe that's how they locate where to get the covey tech, hu? Did you think of that?"

Viking snorts. "There are easier ways to locate old battlefields than to assault a fucking ONI secret base. Give me a break."

"He's got you there." Wink agrees.

"I think its about her." I say, pointing at Naomi's back.

"What?" Wink replies.

"The Spartans. Think about it. Halsey said Doctor Amari was a colleague of hers, right? And she just so happens to have access to an entire Spartan fireteam, and Naomi, AND she referred to them as 'My Spartans.' The Spartans just appeared out of nowhere and they're basically a myth as well as the only thing keeping us from getting spaced by the Covenant. If the innies want to hurt the UNSC where it matters? They hurt the Spartans."

No one says anything and I surprise myself with how valid my theory sounds even spoken aloud.

"The Insurgents didn't attack the facility because of the data." Naomi answers. "The facility is the production center for a new weapon. A new type of spacecraft code-named 'Saber.' The data is related to technology incorporated into the ship's design. Technology that Doctor Halsey developed based on her findings at Sword."

"You mean based on that giant alien ship under the ice?" Scratch adds.

"Yes." Naomi nods. "The Insurgents were hoping to damage the spacecraft and set back the program. Years of progress might have been lost."

"You see?" Chance finally joins the conversation. "Not everything is a giant conspiracy theory, Wink."

Wink huffs.

The rest of the flight goes by in relative silence. I spend most of it trying to get some sleep. Viking, Scratch, and Wink passed out half an hour ago. They've always been good soldiers, able to sleep anywhere. I envy them for that. Chance is still awake, but he's crouched over his data pad like a bird of prey. He's probably looking at blueprints, plans, and combat reports. He's a good Sergeant, one of the best. Always well informed and prepared for any eventuality. I realise how lucky I am to have been assigned to his fireteam, especially when you consider the mortality of ODST is so high. I look over and see Naomi is still sitting at the other end of the ship. She hasn't moved an inch since we took off. I wonder what she's thinking about.

"Two minutes till we reach the AO, Kilo-Five." interrupts the pilot.

I see Chance perk his head up then grab his helmet. He pulls it back on and stands. "Wakey, wakey, children! Time to work." He patrols up the Pelican, kicking the rest of the team in the boots to jostle them awake. There are a lot of groans and complaints, but it's mostly for show. The entire team is alert and ready. I pull my helmet back on with the rest of the team and suddenly the sound of the engines are muted. We move to the back of the Pelican where Naomi is positioned, and prepare to move out.

Below me are the streets of Pálháza. It's a smaller city, but it's still a city of a few hundred thousand. The streets are clean and well lit, with the buildings being sleek, angular and mostly made of glass and bright metals that reflect the afternoon sun. To the Southwest is the ocean, big, blue, and beautiful. It's a coastal escape, and a great vacation spot if you can afford it.

The Pelican dips and soon we're setting down in the spaceport. As I see the ground come into view I step off onto the deck with the rest of Kilo-Five. Around us are dozens of workers all milling around, surprised by the military arrival. Most of them seem to be getting ready to leave work, and I check the chronometer on my HUD. Its almost five oclock. The sun is setting and most of the people are getting ready to head back to their families.

"Alright, lets spread out and get this done." Chance orders.

"Sir, we should start with finding the shipping manager. We'll be able to get manifests of anything strange that's come through the starport lately." Wink suggests.

Chance nods. "Good call. You and me. The rest of you secure the landing zone. Look around, see if you can find anything strange." I watch Chance and Wink jog off towards the control tower in the center of the starport.

"Like any glowing lights?" Viking laughs. Chance doesn't respond.

"James…" I look to see Naomi waving me over. I don't think I've heard her use my name before. "We should investigate the loading bay. If the weapons are already in insurgent hands then we're looking for another shipment, one more recent."

I nod. "Alright." It's a good assessment. I look over my shoulder and see Viking and Scratch speaking with a forklift driving who looks equal parts exhausted and terrified.

It doesn't take long to track down the loading bay. Its a large warehouse with all the incoming shipments organised by date of receipt. Crates and shipping containers are stacked in large, intimidating rows. There are hundreds of crates, maybe even thousands, and this is just the recent stuff. I can't imagine we're going to have much luck without more direction form Chance and Wink, but I've yet to hear anything.

"How are we supposed to find anything in this?" I ask Naomi.

"My helmet has a built in scanning suite. I'll be able to see anything covenant."

"Whoever made your armor sure didn't skip on the cost." I comment, but she doesn't respond.

I spend the next ten thirty minutes following the Spartan around, looking over crates and reading packing slips. Firebase Epsilon, Harvest… property of the UNSC.

"That's strange." I comment and Naomi turns.

"What?"

"All these boxes here say they came from Firebase Epsilon on Harvest…"

Naomi walks over and looks at one of the boxes.

"But Epsilon was glassed… I was there." I finish.

She wastes no time in grabbing hold of the heavy crate which looks large enough to fit an entire Mongoose and yanks it free from the rack. She removes her rifle and bashes at the lock. It only takes two hits before the lock falls away in a mangled mess. I move to assist, realising the aid is more gesture than actual help, and together we left the lid free.

"Bingo." I say.

Inside is an entire covenant weapons pod and with a bit of fiddling from Naomi the lid retracts, revealing rows of fresh, clean, functional plasma rifles. I take a closer look, leaning forwards as Naomi moves to another crate and starts pulling it down as well. There aren't just rifles here… there's grenades and explosive charges as well. It's a veritable arsenal of covenant firepower. Naomi is bashing open another and I move to her position just as she removes the lid. It's the same.

"Sergeant, come in, its Ginger."

"Send it."

"Sergeant we found weapons. Come to loading bay B-11. Me and Naomi are here."

Container after container its the same story, till we're all gathered around five opened crates, each filled with two covenant weapons pods each.

"Jesus…" Wink breaths.. "It's enough for a damn army."

"I'm calling it in." Chance states.

"We need to get back to Sword." Naomi says.

Scratch pulls one of the plasma rifles from its position, the weapon transforming into firing configuration in his hands. Wink moves over to examine the weapon.

"Look at this thing. Its brand spankin' new. Doesn't look like it seen a day of combat." She declares, before retrieving a weapon from the crate herself and looking it over.

"ONI is on the way. Wink, stop messing around. You have the shipping manifest, where are we going?"

"Yes, Sir. I need the shipping number." Wink quickly tosses the weapon back in the crate before pulling something up on the data pad mounted to her wrist.

"Romeo Charlie dash Papa Alpha. Five six two, then niner dash three four two." Chance recites the numbers from the shipping label on the side of the nearest crate.

"Romeo Charlie dash Papa Alpha. Five six two, niner dash three four two." Wink reads back.

"Confirm."

I look at Naomi who is still staring at one of the covenant weapons pods. The helmet's blank expression is completely inscrutable. I wish I could see her face. I wonder if she looks like Frederic…

"Got it. They were dropped off two days ago by a cargo ship tagged ST534 'Another Try.' Nice name. Registered to a Anthony Colbert." Wink scrolls through some additional information on her wrist. "We're in luck. The ship is currently docked for engine maintenance at New Alexandria spaceport."

"Then we have our next target. Kilo-Five, get on deck and into that Pelican. We're moving out."

I shoulder my weapon and start walking when Naomi puts a hand on my shoulder.

"We need to go to Sword." She states.

I look between her and Chance.

"What?" He says, but she doesn't reply. "We have evidence there is an insurgent coup being stages here, miss. I don't know if you missed that but this is enough ordinance to blow a hole in most of the city. The more time we waste-"

"I'm not suggesting, Sergeant, I'm ordering you. Kilo-Five is deploying to Sword."

Chance looks at me, then to the others. I can tell he's confused. I don't blame him, so am I.

"I don't take orders from you." He answered.

"Sir, perhaps we should just check in…" I start to say.

"You're mistaken, Sergeant. I wasn't attached to Kilo-Five as a one-off ride along. I'm your new CO. We're going to Sword. That's an order."

The air is suddenly tense. "You're ordering me to ignore a known threat, and risk innocent lives... Why?"

"I am, but I can't tell you why. Not yet." Naomi's voice was gentle, as always, but there was a firm and lethal edge there that reminded me of what she was. A soldier like no other. A titan amongst us.

"Kilo-Five…" Chance stated, and I can see Scratch tighten his grip on his shotgun. "Get prepped to leave. We're going to Sword."

I let out a sigh of relief, and everyone relaxes. On my helmet's HUD Naomi's icon blinks as she opens a private channel between the two of us.

"Thank you." Is all she says before the channel is cut.

The flight back to Sword is tense, and awkward. Naomi has resumed her position at the front of the Pelican, separate from the group. Viking and Scratch have gone to sleep while Wink seems content to stare at the back of Naomi's head. Chance hasn't said anything, and is just looking at the floor. It's been a long day, and three ops in one deployment this close together is pretty abnormal, even for ODST. I tell myself we're all just exhausted. It's been a lot to take on. A lot of information, and a lot of it bad. I look at Naomi and think about her being the new CO. We join ONI and not even a day later command of the squad is given over. You shouldn't be surprised. I know… Why would ONI not give us a handler? We're brand new, and Halsey clearly has an interest in our success. And it's a Spartan, maybe we should be honored? I close my eyes and try and relax. The flight is a few hours and it passes. Slowly.

Once we land at Sword Frederic, or Spear One, is waiting for us. He greets Naomi with a strangely cold formality. I wonder if that's normal. For some reason that's not how I expected the two Spartans to get along. Kilo-Five, the non-Spartan part of it anyway, is ordered to get some rest and relaxation. We're assigned individual quarters inside the base itself and soon we're being escorted by on-site ONI security. I see Naomi being led away with Spear One, and I imagine she's going to be delivering her report directly to Halsey.

After being taken to my quarters I step in, shut the door and then, just like that I'm alone. I look around the provided room and I'm… impressed. This certainly wasn't intended to house a bunch of military troopers. Soft furnishings, a personal computer built into the desk. Entainment. A beautiful view of an interior courtyard. It even has its own kitchenette. I remove my helmet and toss it on the bed before moving to cabinets below the microwave. I'm starving. It'll be nice to get somethiing in my that isn't an MRE. There is a box of some kind of sweet sponge cake with creme filling that looks tempting...

There is a knock at the door and I curse under my breath. I grab one of the cakes and stuff half of it into my mouth, letting the other half stick out like a malformed cigar. I jog over to the door and thumb the open button. Wink is staring back at me, her rich green eyes full of serious contemplation.

"You alone?" She asks.

I look around and laugh with a mouthful of cake. "Who else would be here?"

She shrugs and motions for me to follow. "We're all in Chance's room, come on."

I frown and let out a sigh, chewing through the rest of my cake. I follow her down the hall to where Chance's room is. Wink opens the door and I see the inside is exactly the same as my room. Viking is laying on the bed tossing a ball into the air repeatedly, he stops and gives me a half wave.

"I was about to eat." I protest.

"Don't you worry about that, my good fellow." Scratch says in a mocking, high class Harvest accent. "I'm preparing the finest stew."

I look over and see him stooped over a large broth pot he's set up on the stove. He grins at me and gives me a nod of greeting which I return.

Wink wastes no time in finding a chair. She plops down with a sigh of relief at being able to be off her feet for the first time since Kilo-Five was deployed. I look up and see Chance standing by the window. He turns and gives me a professional nod of greeting.

"Ginger." he says.

"Sir." I acknowledge, and then shut the door behind me before taking a seat across from Wink.

"Well let's get started…" Chance states.

"With what?" I ask.

"With what we're going to do." Wink interjects, giving me a 'what's the matter with you' kind of expression.

I frown. "So we're not waiting for orders?"

Chance sighs. "I don't know, are we?"

I look around at the others. Viking shrugs and tosses the ball again.

"Are we comfortable sitting on our asses in luxury with some lunatic arming a bunch of other lunatics with high powered alien weaponry?" Chance adds.

"No." Wink answers.

"No, obviously not, Sarg but... " I try to think carefully about what to say.

"But what?" Wink asks.

"We've been going non-stop since we landed. We're tired. Maybe taking a minute to catch our breath isn't a bad thing. Maybe we're not seeing the whole picture. I'm sure Naomi wants to stop the innies just as bad as we do. Don't forget, we wouldn't even have been able to get to those scientists in time if it hadn't been for her."

"I'm not so sure…" Wink protests.

"What is it with you guys? We all voted the same way, to join up with ONI because we didn't like having our heads in the dark, and then now that we're here what? You want to go back to the UNSC?" I realise my voice is more angry than I wanted it to be. I'm frustrated. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that." I add.

Wink frowns, but her eyes show understanding. She nods.

"No harm." Chance says. "And you're right."

"He's right, to a point. But aren't we just as in the dark as we were before? But now we're just confused, and being told to ignore a target we know for a fact is a threat. The ODST never gave us a target and then told us to ignore it…" Wink vents her frustrations, punctuating her point by throwing her hands up in the air as if giving up.

I don't have much of a counterpoint. This does feel confusing. Feels like I've got half a picture and all the faces have been cut out. We're missing something, and I know if Naomi was here she'd be able to fill us in.

"Stew is ready." Scratch exclaims.

Viking grunts, pushing himself from the bed and joining me and Wink at the table. Chance grabs some bowls and passes them around. Scratch follows him, filling each with a thick broth stew. I grab my spoon and swirl the food around in the bowl before taking a bite.

"What's in it?" I ask.

Scratch grins. "Edibles."

Viking laughs, and Wink smiles. I examine a spoonful of the stuff and determine that one of the chunks resembles some kind of meat protein. I chuckle and simply down another spoonful. It's good, taste of chicken and various local vegetables. A little salty, but good. We all eat quietly for the next half hour, everyone having their own thoughts about the previous conversation. Chance looks a little less stressed now though, and that makes me feel better. Wink is still Wink, and she's always been hard to read.

After everyone's had second, and third bowls things stay calm. Chance is talking with Wink, but the conversation has a lighter tone to it judging by their facial expressions. Scratch and Viking have both moved to the bed and passed out next to each other. I yawn, fold my arms across my chest and close my eyes. A nap will do me good.


	4. The Weight of Knowledge

CHAPTER FOUR

The Weight of Knowledge

I'm standing on the edge of a precipice, a platform in the center of a vast, circular room. I'm back on Harvest. Outside I can hear the war waging, the sound of Epsilon heaving its last dying breath before it ultimately falls to the onslaught of covenant forces. _The fight isn't over_. I think, and stagger down a long hallway and out onto the defensive platform. Above me the barrel of an M71 anti air emplacement is smoking, its computer still rotating to track the dozens of enemy aerial targets. But it's ammo storage has long since run dry. I look around and see that the walls have already been breached. It's the final moments of Harvest now. In the distance an enemy cruiser hovers in the upper atmosphere, and then the terrible red beam erupts from its hull. The enemy weapon smashes into the surface of Harvest, turning everything it touches to glass. Hot air washes across the plains, crashing over me like a rogue tsunami. My skin burns from the heat. I can't speak, I can barely think. I hear the screams of those around me as the radiation starts to cook us alive. They never meant to take us to survive, never meant to accept a surrender. They're here to exterminate us. I look up and see a lone Pelican. Its bay doors are open and with perfect clarity I see a squad of ODST watching me. Watching as my armor melts, as my skin sloths off, and as everything I am turns to glass. As I die they escape, and I feel betrayed. A wave of sorrow I cannot outrun.

"Ginger!" Someone shouts and my eyes flutter open. I groan with displeasure. I'm soaked in sweat and my heart is racing. Its takes me a few seconds to grasp where I am, then I look to see Viking standing over me. He gives me a sympathetic smile and nods. "It's time to go." He says.

I clear my throat, nod, and push myself up out of the chair. "Where to?"

"You missed it - a call came in from the Spartan about ten minutes ago. We're going to Alexandria. Here." He says, handing me my helmet. "I got your can."

I thank him, and pull the helmet on before following him out of the room.

"The others are already on the deck." He explains.

After a short jog we're bag in the staging area of Sword base. I see Naomi and Chance having a conversation in front of a Pelican, its engines in idle and prepared to take off. When they see me and Viking approach Chance gives her a nod and Naomi climbs into the back of the Pelican.

"Nice of you to join us sleeping beauty." Chance remarks.

"Sorry, Sir. Had a fight on Harvest."

"I figured." He replies. "We're going to New Alexandria to track down our friend Mr. Colbert. Track down those weapons and rip this insurgency out by the roots. You ready for this?"

"Always."

"Then let's get moving." He says, climbing into the Pelican and offering me a hand. I take it, and move to sit down. I realise my normal position is taken by Naomi, whose silver visor is staring at me. I shrug and sit down beside her. It's good to see her with the squad. _Maybe this will put the others at ease?_

"Pilot, we're all in! Let's get this train moving!" Chance says, taking his seat. He leans over and pulls up his data pad. "Sync up. We're zero five hundred and twenty hours."

I check my chronometer. Its had about two seconds of drift which I correct. "Set." I reply. The others follow suit.

Chance continues. "The Spaceport is only about a thirty minute flight from Sword, so we'll be there shortly. Don't get comfy."

I nod, check my equipment over, and set the M7 on my lap. The Pelican starts to take off and I feel the pressure of lift momentarily glue me to my seat. Then with a roar of the twin engines the dropship is off, cruising over the temperate climate at speed. I look at the back and watch as the intricate canyons and grassy, sub saharan vistas go passing by. Sword is further inland than the coast, and the climate reflects that. I had to admit I'd rather fight here than on the coast. Its flatter, and as a result safer from sniper fire. Then again it's harder to get arial support when you're in a bunch of inter-connected canyons. But I can't deny the view is better on the coast. The green, the stanley twisted trees eaking out an existence on the side of great mountains. The ocean. Reach always has had a beautiful ocean. I've been told its because the water here is higher in oxygen and so it changes the color. I'm honestly not sure if its true or not. By the time I'm fully woken up we're fifteen minutes into the flight and I'm already restless to get on the ground.

"Kilo-Five, I have something to tell you." Naomi states.

The rest of the team, myself included, perk up from our individual thoughts and musings and stare at the Spartan.

"Spartan One Zero Four has advised I not speak to you about this, but I do not agree with his assessment." She looks sideways at me and I suddenly feel very small. Her gaze quickly passes though as she addresses the group as a whole.

"Colbert is not our target. We need the black box from his ship."

"What?" Wink cut in. "Why? He's a traitor, an innie."

"That is true, but the innie's are not the true threat. The weapons we found were newly manufactured, and the crates they were in were shielded against my scans. Without Ginger's keen eyes we wouldn't have even found them. They are being supplies."

"Supplies by who? The Covenant?" Viking gaufs at the mere suggestion. "The Covenant don't work with humans. They're savages."

"Most of the Covenant feel similarly about us." Naomi's voice is calm, soft, and totally factual. "It is clear this is a sabotage campaign. They are using the remains of insurgent cells to weaken key installations across Reach. That explains the targets selected, the manner of the attacks, and the weapons and explosives used to gain entry. Your team- Our team, is not the only one deployed on these types of missions. I admit, this is a new tactic we've not encountered before, but the Covenant are not stupid. They have brilliant commanders and not all are as fanatical as their common soldiery. They see value, and they'll exploit it the same as us."

The squad stays quiet for a moment, absorbing everything. Suddenly my dream comes flooding back into my mind. Harvest. The Covenant; the old enemy the UNSC has been fighting for two decades now.

"But the Covenant are almost defeated." I say with a supreme lack of confidence. "They lost most of their fleet, and the victory on Harvest at least…"

"The victory on Harvest was greatly exaggerated by the Department of Information. It was a narrow victory. Barely even that. The enemy fleet has recovered and they're preparing."

"Preparing for what?" Scratch asks.

"Invasion…" Chance adds.

I look at the Spartan but she doesn't respond. The realisation fills my stomach like a lead weight.

"They've been weakening what they can ahead of an invasion force. It's exactly what they did on Harvest, remember?" Chance looks at each of us then back at Naomi. "So that's why you weren't in any rush to secure Colbert, isn't it? You needed to report to Doctor Halsey that the Covenant are on their way here."

She nods. I don't know what the rest of Kilo-Five is feeling. I don't know what I'm feeling. I've been wanting to get back to fighting the Covenant ever since we were evacuated from Harvest. Watching those people die as Kilo-Five escaped on a Pelican… The shame I felt then. But by God we were beaten. Even when the reports came through that Harvest had been classified a victory by the UNSC, Covenant casualties 'far outmatched even the most favorable projects' I don't think I really believed it. A chill crawls up my spine at the thought of facing that destruction again. _Can I survive a second time?_

"So what do we do?" Wink asks, directing the question to Chance.

Chance stays quiet for a long moment, but eventually he looks at Naomi. She's sitting as still as ever, perfect in her dark blue armor with the expressionless silver visor staring right back.

"We secure Colbert's ship, 'Another Try.' Take the black box and run it through analysis. We find out where the Covenant are meeting the Insurgent force, locate their forward base of operations here on Reach, and eliminate the threat."

"That simple, hu?" Wink muses.

"Sergeant." Naomi starts. "I am not a leader. I never have been. I am a tactician. I am a Spartan, but I have never been… good… at leading." There is an awkward pause where no one knows what to say. "You have a good team here. I read all your files. You work together well and I do not want this to stop. If you can trust me to choose the right missions, I would trust you to lead Kilo-Five."

Chance straightens his posture slightly, he glances at the rest of Kilo-Five then clears his throat. "I'm sorry for how the team acted. Ma'am I would be happy to continue doing my job, and if its under your command I'll be honored to serve alongside a Spartan. You point, we shoot." Chance brings his hand to his helmet in a crisp, professional salute. I match his gesture, as does the rest of the team.

"Welcome to Kilo-Five!" Viking says with a chuckle. "Now… Have you ever wondered why Vikings make such good sailors?"

It started to rain about halfway through the flight to New Alexandria, and now as I look out the rear of the Pelican it looks more like a monsoon than a thunderstorm. The onboard targeting computer inside my helmet will prevent it from being too much of a bother, but the sound is really what concerns me. The ODST combat suite has an audio scrubber as well since there is no sense in everyone in the squad going deaf from friendly artillery fire behind enemy lines. Its main function is to mute or diminish extraneous noises. Some kind of smart program that's supposed to match audio profiles or something. A side effect of this "smart program" is that in heavy rain the scrubber can get confused and start muting sounds it shouldn't. Makes for poor situational awareness. I decide turning it off would be the best approach and suddenly the engines of the Pelican become the dominant feature of the soundscape.

"Sergeant, I've made contact with Alexandira's superintendent and made it aware of the mission. We've got full clearance to approach the spaceport. You want the bird grounded?" Wink questioned.

Most of the larger cities across UNSC space have an AI installation that runs services, they have names but typically we just call them the "superintendent. They run stuff like water, power, sewage, traffic. Almost everything. Provides data, statistic calculations, risk assessment. Alert emergency services as well, and relay orders. Almost every founding city on a UNSC comes equipped with some kind of AI, though some are more advanced than others. It's a great resource but expensive for the UNSC to employ. New Alexandria is one of a handful of cities on Reach with one.

"Confirm. Keep her on the ground, but don't inform them unless they try to take off. Have local security ready to move in to secure the area in case things get ugly."

"Roger that." Wink said and went back to her Data pad, relaying the orders.

"James." Despite its softness Naomi's voice cuts through the rain and I turn to look at the Spartan. "I read your file."

I double check the channel and see that Naomi has chosen to keep the like private between the two of us. "Of course."

"Most of it is secured under ONI's Tier One clearance."

I shrug.

"My file is also Tier One."

"All Spartans are." I add.

She nods. "What did you do before you joined Kilo-Five?"

I am surprised by the question. Not surprised she wanted to ask, but surprised she would ask. "You know I can't answer that. Besides- if you really wanted to know I'm sure you of all people could clear it through Highcom?"

Naomi stays quiet for a moment. "I could but I wanted to ask you first."

Before I can say anything there is a loud thud and I realize the Pelican has landed on the deck. Naomi has already risen from her seat, and I scramble to catch up as the squad deploys. On the tarmac are dozens, if not hundreds of cargo ships of various model and make parked in neat, organized rows. At the main terminal some three harden yards off large B-Class cruiser is preparing to take off, each of its four engines the size of our entire dropship.

"Viking, you got the nav?" Chance asks.

"Roger that Sir, the ship is this way."

It doesn't take long to reach our destination and soon we're crouched under the wing strut of the neighboring aircraft observing our target. The 'Another Try' is an older model "Seagull" class cargo ship made by the CAA. Its a standard 'H' construction, named so because… well it looks like an H. Two long pods attached to a center strut contain all of the cargo, with a center strut being the foundation for most of the ship itself, including crew quarters, captains quarters, pilot and nav suites… Everything you need to fly inter-system supply runs. This particular model was popular about a decade ago for its modularity as the cargo pods themselves could be designed around the ship's particular purpose, be it raw goods, heavy machinery, deep space mining, or even passenger transportation.

"He's registered for the typical five man crew." Wink adds. "I'm sending through their files now. According to reports the crew and the Captain haven't left the spaceport so its likely they're still onboard."

"Then they're waiting for their contact, or they've been waiting for new orders." Viking adds.

"Good guess." Chance nods. "Pretty soon it won't matter which. We hit the rear door, open her up, and secure. Remember; these are probably innie's but if they show you hands we put them on the floor and secure them. The more left for questioning the better. Scratch, you're on point - move out!"

"Roger." Scratch says and pumps the action on his shotgun before taking off into the rain towards the target.

The rest of us follow in short order, Wink and myself taking up the rear. Once at the aircraft it takes no time at all for Naomi's armor to hack through the civilian grade description, and the cargo door goes green and then opens. First the hissing of the hermetic seals and then it lowers. Inside is darkness, the ship clearly in standby mode to conserve power. I switch over to night vision and see the boxes, same as the ones we found before, covered with cargo netting. I give a rough count and there are over twenty just in this container.

"Are these…?" I ask.

"Shielded, yes." Naomi confirms.

"Proceed on a two-one-six. Keep it tight people." Chance says, pushing past the cargo bay and towards the center door that leads to the interior of the ship.

That's when I hear it, the tell-tale sound of heavy work boots on metal flooring. Two, maybe three contacts and rushing around the interior of the ship. "Movement inside." I radio.

"Stack up to breach." Chance orders.

I hit the door with Viking, and both of us raise our weapons, ready for the worst. With a press of the button the door to the interior opens and I'm first through, ducking low and pushing forwards. We're in the center of the 'H' now, a long corridor with rooms on either side of which there are six in total. At the end of the hallway is a stairwell upwards that leads to the cockpit. Out target. Its dark, and my NV's pick up the glimmer of a light reflecting off the barrel of a gun.

"Con-" I shout, but a fraction of a second too late.

The shotgun goes off and I hear it impact Viking behind me.

"Viking's hit!" Scratch roars, taking his place and firing down the hallway.

I'm already returning firing, but the hallway corridor is a lightshow of muzzle flashes as the crew return fire. They're firing blind in the dark, but the volume of what they're throwing inside the tight space means accuracy hardly matters. A round impacts my leg, then another one of my chest. I focus on dropping the first target who has the shotgun, crouched low in one of the doorways. My first shot hits him in the shoulder, and he cries out in pain. He falls forward, exposing him to the three follow up shots I put center mass until he's still.

Scratch marches forwards, taking point and dropping another insurgent to the left with a blast from his shotgun. I can see bullets bouncing off his armor and helmets, and suddenly I'm damn thankful for this new ballistic weave. I push up, taking cover in the doorway I had just cleared. There are three more targets to deal with and I get ready to toss a frag when Naomi's voice cuts across the coms.

"No explosives, we can't risk setting off the cargo or damaging the flight computer. I've got the center."

As soon as she's finished talking I see the Spartan push down the corridor with Chance in tow. Her armor and shield is more than a match for the innie's assault and I hear the angry bark of her assault rifle as she drops the remaining three insurgents one after the other. I'm just about to break cover when a blinding green light erupts from the cockpit stairwell.

I cry out in pain with most of the squad as my NVs try to compensate for the intensity of the blast, only to see the projective miss Naomi's head by mere inches. It hits the side of the ship and ricochets before expanding in size mid-flight. The now primed mass of energy rockets through the door we'd arrived by and slams into one of the equipment crates. The resulting explosion is all encompassing. I try to grab my ears reflexively, dropping my M7 as the rear cargo bay erupts into fire. I'm thrown back into one of the recently deceased crewmember's cabins, hitting the floor hard with my helmet cracking against the bed frame. Emergency lights have already come on, bathing the interior with bright red light. Then I feel the floor drop out from under me as part of the ship collapses. It slams down onto the tarmac with one final, bone-jarring jolt.

I struggle to my feet, joints aching and head pounding. I groan then turn the noise filtering function of my helmet back on. The shipboard alarm is ringing and I look up to see the FSS kick on, spraying the interior, myself included, with a gel-based fire retardant.

"Sounds off!" Chance orders through the chaos.

"Ginger, I'm alright." I reply.

"Wink - I'm fine."

"Vikings up."

"Naomi in pursuit of target."

"Scratch?" Chance shouts. "Scratch, report position!"

I stumble from the cabin to see Scratch laying on the floor, apparently unconscious, a nearby pipe having split from the ceiling and colliding with his helmet. "I found Scratch, he's in the hallways." I report. I crouch next to him and look at his data pad to confirm he's still breathing. His system report shows a compromised seal, but everything else is green.

Chance appears next to me, grabbing me by the shoulder. "Get the black box! I'll get Scratch out of here. Be fucking quick, we don't know if the rest of those crates are going to go off!" With that he shoves me towards the cockpit.

I jog past Wink and Viking who are already moving to help Chance drag Scratch from the wreckage of the 'Another Try.' Up the stairs and into the cockpit I get my first sight of the control console. Its a wreck, and looks to have been sabotaged by whoever fired the fuel rod cannon and took off. _I hope Naomi gets that bastard._ I duck down and under the console I can see the flight recorder behind a mess of wires. I hastily grab a bunch and start yanking. Finally I get a hold of the box and pull, but it doesn't move. "Are you kidding me!?" I shout angrily. "The fucking box is stuck!" I radio Chance.

"Then UN-stick it, Ginger! Hurry the hell up!"

"Roger that." I reply, standing up and planting several kicks into the top-side of the console. The metal squeals in protest, gages and sensitive electronics crack and fall apart under my assault. Soon enough though the corner of the control console bends down, the screws holding it together finally snapping. Panting I reach down and grab the corner, pulling away the top layer of the console and reaching inside. From this angle I feel my fingers wrap around the flight recorder's handle and when I yank, it comes free.

A second explosion rips through the ship as more of the crates detonate. I'm thrown forward into the console, which hurts like hell, and my helmet is once again brutalized as I smash into the cockpit glass. Luckily nothing seems broken yet. I stumble down the stairwell and through the corridor which is now under threat of being engulfed by plasma-fuel fire. The entire rear of the ship has been reduced to a pile of scrap, and I all by stroll out of a warthog-sized hole now present there.

Chance and the rest of the squad have drug Scratch some thirty yards away and EMS are finally arriving on scene. I walk over, drop to my knees, and take a moment to catch my breath. Scratch is already sitting up, having been coaxed from his unconscious state moments before, but he's groggy as hell and probably has a bad concussion.

"Viking, how's your helmet?" Wink asks.

"Intact. I nearly shit myself." He admits.

"I thought you were a goner." Wink confesses.

"Too bad, so sad." He jokes back.

"Naomi, report position." Chance says over the radio but receives no reply.

An ambulance pulls up next to us and two men dressed in white and blue hop out then rush to our position. Chance directs them to Scratch and they start going over his vitals, slowly walking him to the back of the ambulance a few moments later.

"Naomi, report position." Chance repeats. Again nothing. "You two, go look for our Spartan." Chance points towards me and Wink, and we both nod.

"Yes, Sir." Wink says. "Come on, we'll take one of the security Warthogs, she can't have gotten far."

"I've got her transponder," Wink says as she shifts the Warthog into third gear. "She's at the South end of the airfield."

"Then step on it." I reply, and shift myself up in my seat so I can aim my weapon ahead of where we're going. The rain is still coming down hard so visibility is difficult but soon enough I see a hole in the perimeter fence.

"There!" I say, pointing to the breach.

"I see it." Wink replies. "Looks like someone crashed right through.

As we draw closer what we see makes my heart drop. Naomi is laying on the ground in a crumpled pile right at the entrance of the breach.

"There she is!" I cry out.

Wink doesn't reply, and I figure she's already seen the Spartan. We pull up a few seconds later, heavy wheel squeaking against wet concrete. I bail instantly, almost losing my footing as I do so and then rush to Naomi's position.

"She's hit." I radio as I notice the small pool of rich, red blood under Naomi's position. I look around and see that Wink is still with the Warthog, set up to cover my approach. I suddenly realize how reckless I was and curse under my breath. _What if they had been waiting for you?_

"Chance, this is Wink, we've located Naomi. She's down. Southern end of the field."

I grab hold of Naomi's collar and start to drag, but the Spartan must weigh three hundred pounds or more. She won't budge. "I can't move her!"

"Be advised we can't move her." Wink adds to the call.

"Roger that, Wink, I've got EMS on the way. Hold tight." Chance radios back.

"What happened?" Wink asks.

I look over Naomi's armor which is pitted with heavy impacts around the chest. There is a puncture wound in her suit on the right side of her abdomen.

"I'm not sure. Looks like an ambush or something. Heavy rounds. Maybe an armed warthog? Would explain the hole in the fence." I remove a canister of biofoam and shove the applicator nozzle into the breach of Naomi's suit. Just as I'm about to crack the seal her hand comes to my wrist.

"I'm alright." She says. "The suit got overloaded, it's fine now."

"You're hit." I say and crack the seal before she can protest. Immediately the foam floods the suit, plugs the breach and gets to work healing whatever damage was hidden underneath. I hear Naomi laughing.

"I was already starting to heal, Ginger." She confesses. She wastes no time in turning over and pushing herself up onto her feet. "The target escaped."

"I figured." Wink replies.

"Some kind of ambush?" I ask.

"Yes. An insurgent warthog. They must have been close by, and the target radioed them as soon as our assault began."

"I'll feed it through to the superintendent. Maybe he'll have a bead on their progress."

"Did you retrieve the flight recorder?" Naomi asks.

"Yeah. I've got it right here." I say, detaching the box from my thigh and handing it to her.

"No, I trust you to look after it till we get to a console."

I think that maybe, just maybe I detect a faint smile in the tone of her voice. "Yes, ma'am." I reply.

On the drive back we get word from Chance that Scratch is fine, or as fine as can be expected from getting hit in the head. He has a minor concussion the doctor's gave him some meds for, but he's alert and aware, in other words fit for duty. It doesn't take long for us all to be back onboard the Pelican. Naomi tells us we're heading for the New Alexandria Security Intelligence offices, where they should have the equipment to get a read on the flight recorder. From the back of the Pelican I can see the cargo ship that almost took my left engulfed in multicolored flames.

"Kilo-Five," a cold and synthetic voice breaks over our comms channel. "I am Alice, the superintendent. I have detected your attacker's vehicle. It has been abandoned on the Y-A1 exit offramp and is causing a traffic disturbance. I have alerted the authorities converge on the area."

"Any read on where the occupants are headed?" Chance asks.

"Negative Sergeant. The occupants abandoned the vehicle and then purposefully entered a secondary unknown vehicle outside of my camera coverage. I am currently undergoing statistical analysis of which car in the area is most likely to house our suspects, but the margins are too close for executive action. I will keep you updated."

"What about the Warthog?" Chance looks at Naomi for a moment, and I think he's surveying the damage to her armor.

"The Warthog is a UNSC registered vehicle reported missing from New Alexandria outpost 'Guardian' two months ago. I have been unable to locate its point of origin." Alice's voice cuts off with the unnatural abruptness typical of most AI systems.

"Roger that, keep us informed."

"I will do so, Sergeant."

"I hate the idea of letting these fuckers go." Scratch growls.

"We all do." Wink adds.

"I apologise," Naomi starts. "I did understands the extent to which the insurgents were being supplies."

Vikings snorts. "Not your fault, Naomi. We had no reason to suspect anything was that jacked up. The previous crates just had plasma rifles in 'em. Who would have guessed that crazy bitch had a fuel rod cannon?"

"Who would have guessed she'd fire it inside the corridor of a spacecraft loaded with explosives. That was just as dangerous for her as it was us!" Wink shakes her head in disbelief.

"Desperation." Scratch says. "They're losing, and they know it. We're dealing with only the most committed, most desperate fighters the insurgency has left. These are the ones who faced with an alien extermination of their species decided allying with the aliens over setting aside their political squabbles was a better idea." He sighs.

I frown. He's right, and it was something I think the entire squad already knew in the back of our minds. Over the past two months on Reach our missions had rarely been stand up firefights, but had become increasingly dangerous. The insurgency had always relied on guerrilla tactics, but now they were more like terrorists, bombing whatever targets they could find, be it civilian or otherwise. Anything was game as long as it hurt the UNSC.

The Pelican set down at NASI and we were shown to a nearby terminal moments later. I gave Naomi the flight recorder and she took the lead, plugging it in and sorting through the data as fast as she could, which incidentally was faster than most of us could even keep up with.

"Here." She says after ten minutes. "Every two weeks they make a stop at this communications outpost. The Visegrád Relay. This must be where they're meeting their contact."

"I'll call it in." Chance says.

Naomi nods, not moving from the console, still looking at streams of data. "Thank you, Sergeant."

"Major Horn, come in this is Kilo-Five, over."

It takes a few minutes of silence before we get a response, and in that time Naomi wraps up her analysis and disconnects the flight recorder.

"Might as well leave it." Wink says. "We've got what we came for."

"There might be data on it I missed." Naomi admits.

Wink nods.

"Kilo-Five, this is Major Horn, what've you got?"

"Major, we've determined a site of potentially significant insurgent activity. The Visegrád Relay has been a major supply point for our friends. Be aware, the shipment we just uncovered included heavy, anti-armor, and demolition ordinance. Over."

"Roger that and confirmed, Kilo-Five. Get airborne and wait for further orders from command. Over."

I grab my stuff and head for the door, Viking and Scratch do the same. I see Naomi wrapping up and falling in behind us while Wink and Chance bring up the rear. Soon enough we're all back on board the Pelican and anxiously awaiting further orders from Major Horn. Then I start to wonder if we should be reporting to Doctor Halsey instead, or some kind of ONI official representative. Or is that Naomi?

"Hey, shouldn't we be reporting to Doctor Halsey?" I ask.

Chance pauses and I see his helmet turn to look at Naomi with the rest of the group.

Naomi shakes her head. "No. You all work for ONI but you still report to the UNSC. Doctor Halsey is… uniquely important, but she is not a military officer. She is still a civilian technically."

"Works for me." Viking concludes. I agree.

"Kilo-Five come in, this is Colonel Holland, respond."

"A Colonel?" Wink asks with suspicion in her voice. I exchange looks with Scratch, who shifts in his seat uneasily.

"This is Kilo-Five, reading you loud and clear Colonel, go ahead."

"Contact with Visegrád Relay was lost five hours ago and the team we sent in to investigate has been no contact for two. They've been declared MIA. A Spartan team, callsign Noble has already been dispatched to the area ETA twenty mikes. With the information you've provided ONI analysts believe this to be the work of an Insurgent cell Kilo-Five is being ordered to redeploy to Visegrád Relay and rendezvous with Noble, secure the relay, and eliminate the suspected Insurgent threat. Confirm your orders." Colonel Hollands voice is steady, calm, and authoritative. He has that old-timey speech giving cadance, the kind the UNSC loves to record giving big speeches. He's an inspiring presence by voice alone.

"Enroute to Visegrád Relay, rendezvous with Noble, and eliminate the threat. Orders confirmed, Colonel. We'll get it done."

"Good work with the spaceport, Kilo-Five, keeping those weapons out of Insurgent hands is another victory for the UNSC. Keep it up. Colonel Holland out."

"Pilot, you get all that?" Chance asks.

"Roger that, we're preparing for takeoff."

"An entire Spartan fireteam?" Wink asks.

"Must be a pretty major attack if they've taken the whole damn relay offline." Viking suggests.

"Naomi," I ask, "Do you know anything about Noble team?"

"Not much. One of my brothers is part of it though, Spartan Zero-Five-Two."

"I thought he said it was an entire fireteam of Spartans?" Scratch asks.

"From a different program." Naomi corrects.

"Oh… Like different models of a car then?"

"Partially." Naomi hesitantly adds.

"With how you fight, I can't imagine there being more than one of you in the same place." I chuckle. Viking and Wink join me, nodding in agreement. Naomi doesn't take part though. She seems hesitant to acknowledge her own skills. The Pelican finally jolts into takeoff and the pilot guns the engines to full. We're well on our way.


	5. Winter Contingency

I manage to get some sleep on the way to the AO, and my chronometer shows the sun has just crested the horizon when the Pelican rattles with turbulence, waking me up. We are headed back towards the mountains of Reach's coastline, where the relay is located high on one of the taller peaks. The Visegrád Relay controls most of the UNSC's communications network for the planet's Western hemisphere, most importantly of which include the early warning satellites designed to detect slipspace ruptures produced by the Covenant's cruisers. Essentially without the relay online, the entire UNSC and by extension the planet is blind to invasion. _Unless someone looks out a window_.

"James." Naomi cuts across the comms, something I'm getting increasingly used to. I check, just to be sure, and confirm the channel is private between us.

"Yes?"

"I submitted a request to have your file unblacked." Her voice has a lightness to it I can't quite place at first… She's curious, examining me like a puzzle.

"I see." I pause. I wonder if I should tell her more or if that would only encourage her. "How long will that take?"

She shrugs. "I can't say."

"This isn't my first time working with ONI." I confess, and memories of black uniforms and late night missions come flooding back. Out of all of Kilo-Five I am more intimately familiar with the Spartan program than any.

"Were you a candidate?" Her voice is soft, and caring. I wonder how the Spartan's feel about failed candidates. Is there a judgment hidden there? That someone wasn't strong enough to become a Spartan, that they weren't good enough?

"No. I wasn't." I look at the silver visor of her helmet and imagine the pale-skinned girl underneath it. I am about to elaborate, to confess the realities of my previous post, when the pilot comes over the comms.

"ETA one mike. Get set for drop."

"Alright, you heard him ladies and gentleman." Chance stands up from his seat and moves to the back of the Pelican. He yanks the lever down and the door to the dropship slowly opens. "Grab extra ammo. We're expecting a fight."

I nod and grab two spare M7 mags from the Pelican's rack and stuff them into my boot. I see Scratch grab a banderdoil loaded with shotgun shells and throw it over his shoulder. The Pelican comes to a hover about five feet above the ground. The terrain of the mountains is rough, and there are few landing places big enough for a Pelican to fully set down. We'll have to jump. Naomi is first, and lands with a heavy thud, though the height barely seems to have affected her. Scratch and Viking follow, taking the impact with considerably less grace. I'm next, and hit the ground with a grunt.

"Higher than it looks." Viking says.

"Yeah…" I agree, raising my gun to my shoulder and checking the area. Chance and Wink follow and give the pilot the all clear.

"Good hunting, Sword-Two out." The Pelican's engines increase in power, the backwash buffeting against us. Then he's off. It's a little past morning and the orange sun of Reach is painting the mountainside gold. Birds are chirping in the air and a moa stares at us from a short distance away, it's small head and long neck resembling that of an ostrich back on earth.

"Smoke." Viking says, pointing with his rifle towards a small column of black smoke rising from a shed about a hundred yards forward.

"When did Noble come through here?" Scratch asks.

"Ten minutes ago." Chance replies and then gets on the long range comms. "Noble Team this is Kilo-Five, come in." We wait. "Noble Team this is Kilo-Five, is anybody reading us?"

"Static." Wink adds.

Naomi walks forwards, staring at the datapad attached to her wrist. "The entire region appears to be covered by a sophisticated jamming network. I cannot break through. It appears the relay itself is the source."

"It isn't crazy that the innies would block comms if they're attacking the relay." Wink suggests.

Chance nods. "Alright - combat formation. Stay frosty. Viking, take us to that smoke."

"Roger that." He says.

We move down the hillside, skipping over rocks and small outcroppings as we do so. As we grow closer to the compound the source of the smoke becomes clear - a burnt out Warthog, twisted and gnarled by gunfire. It sits abandoned, with a small fire still burning off oil in it's engine bay.

"Area clear." Viking reports as we push into a small half circle of storage sheds.

"Well they got hit hard." I say, examining the plasma scoring on the side of the Warthog. The metal itself is melted and potmarked from the heat of the plasma. There are dozens of impacts across the entire body of the vehicle.

"Found something." Scratch says, and I watch him pick up some sort of metallic device from the ground.

Naomi walks over and takes the item, looking it over. "Covenant tech." She confirms. "Some kind of locator beacon."

"Is it going to locate where the missing troopers are?" Scratch jokes.

"Unlikely." Naomi replies.

"There's a lot of blood here…" Viking says. "Something tells me they didn't make it."

"No bodies though." I point out. "Maybe just wounded and they moved the body to a safe location to treat?"

Wink raises her rifle, bringing the scope to her visor. "Sergeant, there's a compound further down the hillside. Civilian - looks like a house, probably a farmer's. They might have our missing troopers, or at the very least saw Noble Team come through the area."

Chance nods and brings his rifle up, moving away from the Warthog. "Agreed. Nothing more we can do here. Kilo-Five, move out."

Viking moves past me, heading towards the compound and I fall in behind him. I keep my gun raised and pressed to my shoulder as the team moves further down the mountainside. A flock of moa run past us heading further up into the mountains.

"Damn birds are all over my sensors." Wink complains.

I move into position alongside Chance at the head of the formation as we close in on the compound's entrance. An old work truck is parked in front of the garage. Farming equipment is scattered about the interior as we move through into the inner part of the compound itself. I recall reading that most of Reaches' farmsteads are sent up like this, a circular structure with the house, garage, and storage built around a central courtyard from which all the buildings are accessed. It harks back to a time when Reach was untamed and the farmers were also pioneers who had to worry about the guta and other hostile indigionous creatures. Having a naturally defensible home was a serious advantage. Those days are long since passed, but now it's more of a cultural aesthetic.

"Movement inside the house, dead ahead." Scratch radios.

"Could be innie's inside." Wink remarks.

I take up an overwatch position inside the garage, aiming my M7 at the front door of the home. "Should we breach?" I ask.

"We don't have time for anything else - get set to breach. We treat them as innie's until we confirm otherwise."

Viking and Scratch break cover while the rest of the team overwatch their advance. They take position on either side of the door and the rest of the team follows. I take position right behind Viking on the right side of the door and place my hand on his shoulder.

"Set." Chance says from behind me and I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Breach."

I watch Scratch pivot and position himself in front of the door, then place a powerful kick right on the lock. The wood cracks, buckles, and the doors swing open. Viking ducks forwards into the building, weapon at the ready. I'm right behind him, covering the angles he cannot.

"DOWN, DOWN!" Viking bellows as he pushes into the home. "Let me see those hands!"

I see the suspects; two men, one woman, and a child. A family most likely. They're scared, cowering on the living room floor and holding each other. Wink and Viking have them down on the ground and held at gunpoint in short order while myself and Chance move to the second floor. The farmstead is ascetic, with most of the furniture simple and utilitarian. Where the families of Reach choose to display their culture is in the many rugs and cloth tapestries around the home.

"Clear." Chance says, and I take one last scan of the second floor before following him back down to the first.

"Just a bunch of farmers…" Scratch says, lowering his rifle.

"Want me to see what they know?" Viking asks.

"Yeah, ask if they saw Noble Team." Chance says and we gather around at a respectable distance. I notice Naomi is standing by the door, looking down at her wrist.

Viking steps forwards, lowering his rifle and removing his helmet. He gives the father a smile and extends his hand. The man seems weary at first but takes his hand and stands. "Láttál már senkit sétálni itt?" Viking asks.

"Férfiak, mint te?" The man responds, and Viking nods. "Igen. Láttam őket menni keletre a műholdas felé."

"He says Noble team came through here and went East towards the relay." Viking looks at chance.

"How long ago?"

"Ez mikor volt?"

"Tiz perc." The man replies, looking between Chance and Viking. He raises a hand and points out his window towards the relay.

"Ten minutes ago." Viking gives the man a handshake. I notice what I presume is the wife, and the daughter is calming down, but she's still holding the child to her chest as though we might take it from her. I frown. Reach has been under attack for a long time, and not just from the insurgency. The scars run deep. Viking and the husband have been talking and he finally nods, concluding the conversation. The man turns back to his family and reassures them that everything is going to be fine, the body language the same no matter the words coming from his mouth.

"He says the farm was attacked last night, and something… or as he says 'a monster' killed his son." Viking frowns with unhidden sympathy.

"Innies?" Wink asks.

Viking shrugs. "I don't think so. I got the impression it was something… unnatural."

"Great." Wink replies and I can almost hear her eyes rolling. "Local supersticion is very actionable intelligence."

"It isn't our mission so it doesn't matter." Chance cuts in. "Noble headed East, and so that's where we go. Let's get on task."

Viking nods and pulls his helmet back on. "Maradj biztonságban!" He says to the family before he moves out the front door. I jog after him and soon we're all standing in the circular courtyard. Off to the East at about three hundred yards is the outline of another compound, the first section of the Visegrád Relay. Chance motions for us to fall in and I do so, taking position next to Naomi who I realise has been suspiciously quiet this entire time.

"Naomi?" I ask.

"Yes, James?"

"You've been quiet." I point out.

"I have been getting strange readings - I am not sure if my armor-" She trails off and stops in her tracks. A moment later I hear it. The squad stops dead as we hear the sound of distant gunfire coming from Noble's last reported position. There is the unique snap and crackle of plasma weapon's discharge among the fighting. Then an explosion, likely from a fuel tank or vehicle echoes across the mountainside.

"Double time it, Kilo-Five!" Chance calls.

"Sergeant," Naomi cuts in. "We need to fall back to the farm."

"What? Why?" He asks.

"Multiple heat signatures are inbound to this position, closing fast."

Just as Naomi reports it I turn to see a Covenant banshee blitz towards us from the horizon line, swooping down from above the farmstead. "Contact!" I shout, as plasma rains down our exposed position. I watch Viking and Chance return fire along with Naomi and myself, but the banshee's attacks are accurate and several shots pepper Wink. She screams, one round of plasma rounds impacting her leg and sending her to the ground.

"Wink is hit!" Viking calls out, wasting no time in rushing to her position and grabbing the back of her chest rig.

"Get her inside! Kilo-Five, cover fire! Back to the compound!" Chance runs over to help Viking and the two of them start to drag Wink back into the farmhouse. She's holding her leg with one hand and her rifle with the other. I focus on trying to get accurate shots onto the banshee but the low caliber rounds are having little effect, merely bouncing off the alien hull.

"No good!" I shout. "We need something heavier!"

"Fall back!" Chance orders and I see him firing at the garage. A squad of Covenant are there, grunts and jackals with an elite in bright white armor leading them. They see me immediately and start firing. Shots impact the ground around me, and I dive for cover behind some crates and farm equipment.

"Cover fire!" Scratch shouts from the house, and I see him smash a window then unleashing several blasts from his shotgun. Chance's M7 joins him from another window and I see Naomi open fire from the second story.

"Moving!" I reply, taking the moment to dash for the front door. I feel a round impact on my side but the damage is absorbed by the armor. I slide through the door and crawl to a position of relative safety behind a chest of drawers before returning fire at the enemy position from inside the home. I manage to catch one of the grunts out in the open and I hose him down, blue blood splattering against the concrete.

The banshee howls as it comes in for another pass, plasma rounds slamming into the side of the house and bursting through the windows. One of the civilians, the husband whom Viking had been talking with earlier, is caught by the attack and his body is covered in plasma burns before any of us can react. He falls to the floor in a crumpled pile and I watch the wife rush to his side, desperately trying to drag him away from the front of the house.

"Hows Wink?" I ask over the comms as another grunt tries to advance on the home, only to be cut down by the combined fire of myself and Scratch.

"I'm fine, damnit!" Wink replies.

I hear Chance snap the seal on a biofoam container, and glance over to see him patching up Wink's leg.

"Stop worrying and get off me, it's fine!" She shouts, pushing Chance off and struggling to her feet. She has a limp, but it isn't bad. "We have a firefight to win. I'm heading to the second floor to get sights."

Chance rushes to the front door and slams up against a wall, joining myself and Scratch as we pour fire into the enemy position.

"We can't move until that damn banshee is dealt with!" Viking says. I see that he's trying to tend to the civilian, but even I know he's gone.

"Taking care of it." Naomi radios.

I look around the battle and see Naomi climbing up one of the grain silos in the main compound. She scales it like a monkey, hand over hand yanking her immense weight upwards effortlessly. The Banshee begins another dive right as she reaches the top and I watch the Spartan leap from the silo and smash into the side of the aircraft. She holds on with one hand while the other holds her rifle, unloading shot after shot into the side of the pilot from point blank. The banshee immediately starts to smoke, and pieces of it sloth off, peppering the ground. It jolts, then dives forwards. I see Naomi reach into the cockpit and direct the crashing torpedo towards the enemy position and then bail into a roll a heartbeat before impact. The banshee's corpse along with the body of its pilot collide with the advancing covenant squad. Several grunts and jackals are crushed beneath it, before the wrack finally slams into the elite leader, pinning him beneath the wreckage.

"We need to help her!" I say and rush from my position. I head out the front door. Chance and Scratch follow me. A jackal goes down under a rain of fire, then two more grunts join him in short order. I watch Naomi dash over to the pinned elite and finish him off with a burst of 7.62 to the skull. With that the field goes quiet, and the battle is over.

"Clear." Wink says from her vantage point.

"Not quite." Naomi says. "Noble must be engaged with Covenant forces as well. We need to move to their position."

Chance doesn't waste any time in signaling for the team to fall in. "Let's double time our shit over there, Kilo-Five, this fight ain't over!"

With that said we all start jogging, heading over the bridge and going East towards the next compound where we previously heard gunfire. My heart is racing, and it feels good. Good to be back in the fight, and good to be fighting the Covenant again. I realise how much I've missed it, and I wonder what kind of person that makes me considering there is a dead civilian only a hundred yards behind me.

"Heat signature closing in." Naomi chimes in as we're about half way to our destination. "Profiles match that of a Covenant dropship."

"Heading?" Chance asks.

"The farmstead." She answers.

"Should we turn back? Evac the civs?" Viking's question is one I already know the answer to, and I frown.

After a pause Chance voices it. "Stay on task."

We close in on our destination, and it's another garage. I look over my shoulder and see the Covenant dropship hovering over the remains of our previous engagement, disgorging another fireteam of Covenant troopers. Plasma guns crack in the distance.

"Jesus…" Scratch says and I turn away from the farmstead to investigate what he's found.

Two troopers are pinned to the wall with farming equipment, strung up by chains and straps. They've been dead for awhile by the looks of it.

"Must be the troopers they sent here before Noble… What the hell happened to them?" Even Wink seems disgusted, or maybe just surprised.

"Look here…" Scratch says, pointing to a wound on the man's neck. "They tortured them." There is a pause where none of us know what to say.

Viking joins Scratch beside the corpse, collecting their dog tags. "What could the Covenant want to know that a bunch of random troopers could tell them?"

"They wanted to know if their invasion had been made." Naomi says with supreme confidence. "If the UNSC sent them here with backup or not…"

I realise that even with all the information we've been collecting about the insurgency it doesn't tell us… "How long have the Covenant been here?" I ask. "I mean - they could have been here for months and we wouldn't have known. That explains why they tortured the troopers. We're breaking their cover…"

There is a pause as everyone stares at the two corpses. I try not to imagine what they felt in their last moments.

"You are likely correct, Ginger." Naomi adds. "If that is true, it means we must reactivate the relay no matter the cost and warn the UNSC."

Just as she finishes the statement gunfire echoes across the mountainside again, farther East. The squad is jolted from their stupor and moves through the garage, pushing out into another courtyard which is filled with Covenant bodies.

"Must be Noble's handiwork." Viking comments.

I look out across a wide valley, with a river running through its center and see far off the base of the relay tower. It's a military installation, and it looks like it. Grey walls, tall and imposing, secure… and ringing with the sound of combat.

"Noble Team this is Kilo-Five, come in." Chance says over the radio then curses. "Still nothing but static. We need to get across this valley."

"That's a lot of open ground…" Scratch says. "If another banshee-"

Chance cuts him off "If another Banshee engages us we'll deal with it."

Scratch nods. "Yes, Sir."

We run as fast as we're comfortable going without wearing ourselves out completely. I notice Naomi gingerly keeping pace at our flank. I can't help but feel like we're holding her back. We are. I know it's true, the Spartan IIs are super soldiers in every sense of the word… As close to perfect as you can get. I just wish it weren't so damn obvious.

"Look at this place… Noble team wrecked their shit." Viking says as we progress through another scattering of Covenant bodies, riddles with bullets, plasma bruns and shrapnel.

"Looks like a damn force of nature came through here." I say.

"You said these Spartans weren't like you, Naomi?" Viking asks.

"Correct. They are from a separate program. Their armor is-" Naomi's wrist chimes an alert and she looks down. "Multiple dropships closing in on our location. We have to move faster."

"My legs are only so long!" Scratch replies.

"Lock that shit down, Scratch," Chance chastises him. "And MOVE up that hill unless you want to die on it!"

We're sprinting now, and I can feel my body starting to go into overdrive. My aim is going to be off when we enter the combat zone and I make a mental note to compensate for it. Entering a combat situation out of breath is never ideal but sometimes it's your only option. I risk a glance backwards and see three covenant dropships heading towards us at a brisk speed. My heart drops. If we don't get into the relay now…

"I see Noble team!" Scratch calls from the top of the hill where the entrance to the relay's perimeter is just through an open gate.

"Noble - Noble Team this is Kilo-five, respond! We're closing in on your position with covenant dropships on our flank!" Chance is panting, but gets the radio call out in short order. There is no response.

I crest the ridge just in time to see one of the Spartans from Noble Team falling back under covenant fire to behind a blast door, which is slowly closing. "Shit!" I curse and start rushing after Scratch and Viking who are already pushing into the perimiter's courtyard to engage the covenant there and hopefully get Noble's attention. Scratch is the first to enter combat, running up behind an elite and pushing the barrel of his shotgun into the alien's spine before pulling the trigger and blowing a fist-sized hole clean through. Viking guns down several grunts from behind with tight, controlled bursts from his M7 and I shoot the legs out from under a shield-bearing jackal which sends him to the ground where I finish him off with a kick to the skull.

But our efforts prove pointless as I watch the blast door close with a metal thud. We're sealed outside of the relay with the Covenant dropships quickly closing in on our position. I rush over to the console for the blast door and scowl at what I find.

"Console is a complete wreck!" I radio in.

"Naomi?" Chance asks.

I feel the Spartan's hand on my shoulder and she pushes me out of the way with all the effort one might move a chair on wheels. "I need time." She says.

Chance doesn't hesitate. "You'll get it. Kilo-Five, we're holding here. Load up and get set for a good time."

I look around, assessing the situation. The courtyard is filled with cargo containers and a few trucks, serving as a collection and drop-off point for the relay by the looks of it. To the right of the blast door is a service bay and offload point. A few trucks are parked inside, and there is plenty of hard cover, but staying there essentially forfeits control of the courtyard to the covenant. There aren't a lot of other options.

"Keep it spread out and fall back into the cargo bay if you need to. Check your ammo." Chance issues orders, hoisting Wink up into the back of one of the trucks to give her at least some height advantage. I watch as she props the heavy rifle up on the side of its bed for a stable firing platform. Viking takes position at the entrance to the garage, behind a concrete outcropping. I push forwards along with Scratch and take a forward position behind a low wall just behind the main gate where the Covenant are going to drop on us. As I take position I pop a fresh mag into my M7 and take a deep breath, trying to slow my breathing. I see Naomi standing by the door, hunched over the console and furiously typing. She can do it. Then it begins.

The dropships rain fire down on our position with impact plasma launchers and onboard plasma turrets. The wall in front of me gets peppered immediately, chunks of plaster and concrete are sent flying into the air. One of the heavy bolts from the dropship's main gun slams into the truck in front of Wink's position, blowing a chunk off the cabin's main structure. Wink's rifle answers with a thunderous clap, going straight through the chest of one of the gunners manning a plasma turret. It buys me enough breathing room to peak over the wall and return fire. The Covenant are already swarming through the gate, grunts sent forward like cannon fodder. I spray into the horde, dropping two, then three in a heartbeat, their strange aliens screams filling the air. Scratch's shotgun roars next to me in sequential blasts, mulching whatever grunts are stupid enough to get too close.

For a moment I think I was worried for nothing, and then the main Covenant force joins the battle. Elites and jackals with energy shields funnel through the gate, spraying plasma and carbine shots in every direction. I'm forced behind cover and I see a carbine round nick the side of Scratch's helmet.

"Fuck!" He shouts, ducking down behind the low wall and loading more shells into his shotgun.

"I've got him!" Wink replies, and her rifle cracks once more. I see the round streak out and bury in the exposed neck of the elite who had fired at Scratch. The alien screams and falls to the ground, clutching his neck and abandoning his weapon.

"Much obliged!" Scratch responds, pumping the action on his shotgun.

Just then the air fills with a familiar scream and I look up to see two banshee's closing in on our position. "Fast movers incoming!" I radio and Wink turns her rifle to the sky. Three shots ring out in quick succession, one after the other burrowing into the front of the banshee's hull. The final round punches through into the main cockpit and the banshee careens off course, colliding into the side of a cliff. There's still one up and plasma shots start raining down on my position.

"Ginger, Scratch, fall back to the trucks!" Chance calls, laying down suppressing fire with Viking.

I don't waste time, tapping Scratch on the shoulder. He stands, firing shot after shot to cover my retreat. The moment I hit the trucks I turn around, blue plasma soaring overhead, and lay down fire to cover him. He slams the truck next to me and we both duck into cover.

"Safe!" He laughs, feeding his shotgun more ammo.

"For now." I say, slapping another mag into my M7.

"Incoming, high!" Wink shouts.

I look up and see the banshee swoop in for another attack, this time disgorging a green ball of explosive plasma directly at Naomi's position. Before I can say anything though, she's already turned around as though she has eyes the back of her head. She dives sideways just as the bolt impacts her previous position. The explosive blast sends her skidding on the concrete, but she's alive.

"The console is no longer an option." She states, her voice showing no sign of stress or anxiety. "Fall back to the cargo bay, I will cover."

"But…" I state, dropping another grunt and sending several shots into the shields of an advancing elite. "You can't hold off the entire Covenant army!"

"Do as she says, trooper!" Chance chides.

I frown, but know he's right. It's not my job to question her. "Wink, I've got you covered!" I shout, dipping back out of cover and firing more rounds down range. I see another drop ship show up just on the other side of the perimeter wall, and more grunts and jackals start flooding through the gateway.

"How many are there?!" Scratch says with frustration in his voice. "I'm running low on ammo!"

Scratch drops another elite with several shots to the chest and head. Wink vaults from the truck bed with rifle in hand, and I see her hit the ground and jump up into a quick sprint, running for the safety of the cargo bay as green and blue plasma splash the area around her feet.

"You two next!" Viking shouts, dropping cover to fire at the oncoming Covenant force. Chance is beside him doing the same.

I slap Scratch's shoulder and he breaks cover, dashing for the cargo bay while I add my fire in support of his escape. Just as I'm about to break cover myself I see Naomi sprint past at speed, slamming her entire weight into an advancing elite. The alien crumples like a rag doll under her weight, falling to the ground where she empties several rounds into its skull. The grunts scream, fleeing her very presence as she starts to unload magazine after magazine into their attack.

"Go." She says, steady and relentless as her assault.

I sprint across the gap, reaching the cargo bay in no time at all. I join the squad at the entrance and focus on dropping whatever isn't swept away by Naomi's rifle.

"Two mags!" Viking shouts.

I remove one of the spare mags from my boot. "Here!" I shout and toss it his direction. He catches the mag and stuffs it into his chest rig before pouring more fire into the Covenant. Another jackal hits the ground, clutching multiple wounds. He's quickly finished by a well aimed shot from Naomi whose drawing the full focus of the Covenant now. Shot after shot pelt against her armor, her shields absorbing the brunt of the damage. She grabs hold on an elite, breaking its leg with one well placed kick and disarming it just as smoothly. She props her rifle under the alien's arm and uses the screaming creature as a shield, slowly withdrawing to our position. Just as she reaches us she drops the already dead elite and fires two shots into the back of its head.

"We're running out of room." Scratch states, his voice filled with the calm that comes from accepting fate.

"Shut up and shoot!" Viking scolds.

Minutes pass as we run through magazine after magazine, each of us reporting critically low ammo. It looks like this might be it when the radio crackles to life. The whole squad seems momentarily shocked, and there is a noticeable pause in the firefight before we all snap out of it and resume the fight.

"Kilo-Five, this is Colonel Holland, come in."

"Colonel Holland, this is Kilo-Five!" Chance replies.

"Kilo-Five the Visegrád Relay has been reactivated by Noble Team. The Winter Contingency is in effect. I repeat, the Winter Contingency is in effect. Covenant forces have attacked reach, do you copy?"

"Have they!?" Scratch shouts out mockingly over the squad's comms before pumping another shot into an advancing grunt, tearing its chest open in a gruesome display of killing efficiency.

"Copy, Colonel. Kilo-Five is currently engaged with multiple Covenant drop ships at the relay's Eastern gate. I repeat, multiple Covenant dropship on our position. Request Noble team be redirected to this entrance to open the door and provide support, how copy, cover?"

There is a pause, and for a moment I fear that the aliens have somehow managed to get the jammers back online.

"Positive copy, Kilo-Five but negative on the request. Noble team has already been reassigned and is currently exfil. We're rerouting nearby Falcon gunships to come render support and evac you from the hot zone, ETA ten mikes, how copy?"

"Ten mikes, copy. We'll be here. Kilo-Five out." Chance looks at the squad. "Mag count!"

"Two." Wink says.

"Last mag." Viking replies, just as he pops in a fresh one after dropping another elite some ten yards away.

"Two." I say.

"Maybe… ten shells left? Give or take a few in pockets."

"Here." Chance says, passing out another M7 mag to me and Viking.

As I place the mag inside my rig I see Naomi climbing up into the cab of one of the trucks. "Naomi? What are you doing?" I ask.

"Getting us ten minutes." She replies, and the truck roars into life. "Get away from the door."

The squad shifts position right as Naomi releases the clutch. The heavy cargo truck lurches forwards, wheels spinning, looking for traction. They find it, and Naomi guides the truck immediately right, directly into the face of an oncoming elite. The alien lets out a garbled yelping sound as its slammed by nine tons of heavy steel. She doesn't let off the gas, and several grunts are caught up in the truck's wheels.

"Yeah!" Viking cheers, stepping out of cover to drop those Covenant smart enough to dive out of the way. I join him.

I see the elites shouting, turning their lesser alien brethren's attention over to the rampaging vehicle. Fire starts pouring in from every angle, more than the squad can suppress. Flames belch from the front of the truck as its engine is torn apart by the unrelenting assault and it crashes into the opposite perimeter wall. For a moment my heart sinks but then Naomi bursts from the wreckage with rifle in hand, flying through the air and planting a crushing kick to a nearby jackal. She doesn't break stride, dancing through the battlefield like an avatar of death, pumping shot after shot into any Covenant in her sight. Her rifle quickly runs dry, but that doesn't stop her. She picks up one of the alien carbines and gets right back to work.

"She's a damn machine." Scratch says.

We provide what support we can from our positions, but it's clear the Covenant are no match for Naomi. She's tearing through them like tissue paper. But even so time is the enemy to us all. Her shields start to falter, glowing a little less brighter than they once had and more and more the enemy are turning their attention to the single Spartan, all but ignoring us completely. As good as she is, she's still human. Time passes in a blur and before long I hear Viking over the comms.

"I'm out!" Viking shouts.

I check my M7 and the digital readout shows a disheartening 15 rounds. Then the sky fills with the sound of blades - helicopters. Three Falcon gunships scream around the corner of the mountain, their guns roaring to life the moment they're in view. 20mm shells impact the enemy with devastating effect, ripping through shields and turning alien flesh to mulch. The Covenant dropships try and return fire, but they're slow, and hardly suitable to engage other air targets. Within moments they're peeling off, retreating to the open sky, leaving their comrades to die an inglorious death, and die they do. In mere moments the tide is turned, and Naomi seems to redouble her efforts, seeking out whatever Covenant forces survive and silencing them.

As soon as it began, the fight was over, and the courtyard was silent except for the engines of the Falcons hovering above.

"Kilo-Five, this is Cowboy Two-Six, how copy?"

"We copy, Cowboy Two-Six, you really saved our ass." Chance replies.

"Hah. Out of the frying pan… Covenant on Reach, who'd have thought? I've got orders to bring you to Firebase Golf in the Ütközet region. Hop aboard and we'll get you out of here."

I watch as two of the Falcons descend and land inside the courtyard, then see Naomi crouched over the body of an elite. I walk over and look at the dead alien, whose four lipped face is contorted in pain.

"Good work." I say.

"Zealot class." She comments, pointing at the Elite's white armor.

"What's that mean?" I ask.

"I'm not sure…" She admits, grabbing her rifle from beside the dead alien. "Come on, James. Let's go home."

...

When we arrived at Firebase Golf the alert had already gone out to the entirety of the UNSC. Sword base was reportedly under attack, along with a dozen smaller installations. Nothing major though, and early estimations had the Covenant forces vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Kilo-Five, myself included, were set up in one of the barracks, and given some time for a little R&R before receiving new orders.

Viking sat in front of a TV with Wink, and both have their eyes glued to a UNSC new station which promises 'up to the minute' coverage. So far the news is mostly positive. Casualties have occurred, obviously, but UNSC forces are achieving victory in key positions. New Alexandria's defenses are holding solid, and the Covenant have only made a token effort to take the surrounding areas.

"This is nothing like Harvest." Viking says, leaning forward in his chair.

"Who knows, maybe they really were hurt as bad as the brass thought? Maybe this is all they've got left?" Wink shrugs, and takes a drink of water from her canteen.

"Maybe they just got scared from how much ass we kicked?" Scratch says from his position on one of the cots. He laughs, stuffing a moa wing into his mouth.

"Ugh - where'd you get those things?" I ask. "They stink."

"Vending machine out front. You want one? They're not that bad."

"Keep your disgusting snacks to yourself." Viking snorts.

"Suit yourself." He says and shrugged.

"I hate to say it, but it's good to be fighting the Covey again. All this damn insurgency bullshit…" Viking grumbles to himself.

"You never were one to finish the fight." Wink retorts.

Viking shifts his position, giving her a hostile look. "What the hells that supposed to mean."

"Means what I said." Wink replies.

Scratch chuckles.

"You're soft on the insurgents." She adds.

"Maybe I just don't hate other human beings as much as you."

She snorts. "You're damn right I hate them."

"Yeah? And what the hell did they ever do to you, hu? A bunch of poor damn farmers just trying to fight for some fucking autonomy. Is that so bad?" Viking looks at her incredulously. I am quietly glad no officers are here to hear him say that.

"They killed my brother." Wink states flatley, her expression icy. "And my father."

Viking deflates. "Oh." He pauses. "Sorry."

"They were catching a ride home on a starship, and the insurgents bombed it. This was the day after Harvest had begun. I was about to be shipped off and for all I knew that was the last chance I was going to get to see them both. They couldn't put their petty political bullshit aside for one day when humanity was faced with literal aliens attacking from space." Wink spoke as if she was reading from a cue card, or recalling something that had happened to another person.

"Yeah…" Viking says, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't-"

"I know you didn't." Wink says, and offers him a weak smile. "I'll never forgive them for what they did, and I'll never forgive the fact that even now we're still dealing with it. When the Covenant are dead and gone it'll resume just like it did before."

"You think so?" I ask.

"I know so." She replies.

The door to the barracks slides open and Chance steps through alongside Naomi. "Alright, Kilo-Five," He pauses, observing everyone's expression and raising a brow. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Nothing, Sir." Wink says. Viking gives a weak cough and adjusts his gear.

"Right." Chance says and walks into the room. He tosses his helmet on one of the cots. "Just got out of briefing with Major Horn and Colonel Holland. They're sending multiple recon teams out into the field tonight to locate possible Covenant strongpoints. Once they tag 'em, we're heading in at first light to mop them up."

"Are we going to be with the main assault?" Scratch asks.

"Can't say. Won't know till we know." Chance replies, and plops himself down on the cot, kicking his feet up. "Until then get some rest, take a shower… Especially you, Viking."

Wink chuckles, turning back to the TV.

"Ginger, we need to go to the armory and have your weapon inspected." Naomi states and I look at her with unhidden surprise.

"What?" I ask.

"Your weapon." She repeats.

I look at Chance who simply shrugs and gives me a 'No idea' kind of expression.

"Yes, ma'am." I respond, grabbing my M7 and standing up to join her. Naomi is still in her armor, helmet on, whereas the rest of Kilo-Five has stripped down to their fatigues. I follow her out of the barracks and we turn right, heading towards the armory at the center of the firebase.

"We're not going to the armory." Naomi says after a few moments walking away from the barracks. "I wanted to talk."

"Oh." I say, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable without the visor of my helmet in front of my face. We walk to the firebase's perimeter wall and she turns to look at me. I offer her a smile which I hope doesn't look as awkward as it feels. "About?" I question.

"ONI denied my request for access to your file." She says after a moment.

Part of me is surprised, and part of me isn't. "I see."

"That's all?" She presses.

I shrug. "What else can I say?"

There is a long pause. I watch Naomi raise her hands to her helmet and unlock it. She removes it and for the first time I get to properly see her. I'm immediately started by how young she looks. Judging by her appearance she can't be more than a teenager, but I know for a fact she is older than that. Medical scars line her face and her eyes are piercing to the point of being uncomfortable to look at. She regards me for a moment, sizing me up I suppose and then turns her gaze to the horizon. "Nothing." She says cooly.

"You know I'd tell you if I could." I say.

"I don't." She confesses.

"Well- That's fair I guess." I rub the back of my neck. Even though I feel like I've known Naomi for a great deal longer than I have the reality is she doesn't have a very compelling reason to trust me any more than the average UNSC marine. "Does it help if I tell you I have a good reason to stay quiet?"

She looks at me. "Do you think I am upset?"

I am taken aback by the question, unsure how to respond. "Maybe I did… before you just asked that. Now I'm not sure." She smiles. It is infectious. I smile back.

"I am not upset." She clarifies. "Merely… curious."

"Why?"

"You are unique. I have never met someone with the clearance level of a fellow Spartan, who wasn't one. On top of that, I have never before been denied access to a Tier One file - especially when it was relevant to the performance of my duties."

Performance of her duties. My neck starts to hurt and suddenly I'm aware of how much taller Naomi is than me. I look down and roll my shoulders to relieve some of the tension. "How can I show you that you can trust me?"

She laughs, well… snickers really. "I already know I can trust you. Your performance in the field was more than enough to prove that."

"Ahh. I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should. You would have made a good Spartan I think."

My brow perks up at that and I try to accept the statement with a modicum of grace, but I can feel the grin creeping across my face. "Yeah… Well - I was too old for the program."

Naomi's expression changes, a seriousness overtaking her features and her brow knitting together. She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her running through scenarios in her mind. I realise the implications of what I've just said and any pride I had previously felt vanishes, replaced with a ball of anxiety in my guts.

"I see." She finally says after a long and awkward moment. "You should get back to the barracks and get some rest."

"What about you?" I ask.

The smile creeps across her face once again. "I'm going to watch the stars for a bit longer I think."

I nod, admiring the Spartan for a moment. "Well - don't stay up too late. Big day tomorrow, and all that." I turn back towards the barracks and make plans for a nice warm shower before hitting the sack.


End file.
